


Survival Horror

by EspejoNight28738



Series: Survival Game [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Cannibalism, Canon Compliant with The Hunger Games, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dark Abigail Hobbs, Dark Will Graham, Developing Relationship, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Murder, Murder Family, Techincally a crossover but the focus will be on Hannibal’s characters, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EspejoNight28738/pseuds/EspejoNight28738
Summary: They call them Victors, but that’s not what they are. They are survivors.Abigail Hobbs was good at survival, and when her name is reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games, she’s ready to keep surviving, no matter the cost.Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham won their respective Games years ago, but the game is never over, and they will do everything in their power to help Abigail survive her games, and everything that comes after them.
Relationships: Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Survival Game [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076060
Comments: 77
Kudos: 102
Collections: I'm praying for that





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For clarity: Abigail, Will and Hannibal are from District 10, as there is no named Victor from there in the Hunger Games books, so it will keep it as canon-compliant with them as possible.  
> Hannibal won the 48th Games with 17 years, and Will won the 49th with 15 years.  
> And I will say it since now: Abigail ain’t dying.

[Reaping for the 73rd Hunger Games. District 10.] 

The sun was the worst part of the Reaping, at least for those who would be going back home with all their family. This vacant lot on the outskirts of the district was the only place big enough to hold the entire population, which meant muddy ground and no trees nearby. 

The girl next to her looked about to faint, but it was probably because of the fear. She kept looking at the first lines in front of the stage, where the youngest available kids for reaping were. She probably had a little sister entering the urn this year. 

Abigail almost wanted to tell her to relax, there was no way her little sister would be picked this year, but the words would sound empty, and in most cases, they would be, except that she already knew who would be picked this year. At least for the girls. 

She looked up at the stage, where the two still-alive victors were. Hannibal looked mildly amused with whatever Freddie Lounds, the official escort for the District, was saying. He probably was the only person paying any attention to her. To his left, Will was already looking back at her. He gave her a half-smile, trying to cheer her up, which was kind of pointless considering the context, but she appreciated it anyway and smiled back at him. 

Abigail managed to keep her mind blank until she finally heard it. 

“Abigail Hobbs!" Announced Freddie with her cheerful melody. Will always mentioned how much he hated her, but Abigail thought that it could be worse. It's not as if there would be many other opportunities for cheerfulness in her near future. 

She walked calmed and composed to the stage, not letting any emotion bleed into her face. 

_“They think they own you,” warned her Hannibal. “In many ways, they do. They own your life, at least, but they can't own your thought or emotions. Those are yours; give them something to keep entertained, but never the true ones.”_

_“The moment you give them even a little of your true self, you already lost, no matter the outcome of the games.” Will seconded._

“Let the applause be heard for our female tribute!” It was a muted thing just enough so the peacekeepers were satisfied, and Freddie decided to carry on to the male tribute. 

Abigail let herself look at the crowd for a moment. She saw the relieved families, knowing they would go home with their children. A few lines behind the place she had been a few minutes ago, where the eighteen-year-old girls were, she was almost sure some were crying with relief. They made it, now they could stay and starve here for the rest of their lives. 

She was jealous, to be honest. 

When the next round of muted applause came, she looked to her right to see who would go with her to the Arena. 

The boy was Nicholas Boyle, the older brother of one girl in her class. He must have been eighteen, he almost made it. Bad luck. 

The peacekeepers escorted them to the Justice Building, which was in the center of the District, so that made for some awkward minutes of silence, but when they finally arrived, she entered the room they showed her and sat to wait. She wasn't sure who would come to say goodbye, so at least she would have another surprise today. 

Her first one was her friend Marissa. The only one that hadn't stopped talking to her after the execution of her father almost a year ago. The girl now ran into Abigail's arms and started talking her ears off. 

“You can win this shit, understood? You already are the favorite of both mentors, them being your pseudo-new fathers or whatever the hell goes on with you. So, you just need to kick ass and come back, okay?” Her voice was serious, even if her words felt anything but. 

Hannibal found Marissa rude and unnecessary crude, and Will found her amusing. Abigail agreed more with Will in this instance. She allowed herself a short laugh before responding. 

“I don't think it's quite that easy, but I have no intention of dying, so I'll have to 'kick-ass' and come back.” 

“That's my girl!” Marissa’s smile was obviously forced, but Abigail decided to ignore it. “I should tell you though, don't trust Nicolas for a second, you hear me?” 

Abigail knew what she was talking about, but then she thought that when there were few tributes left, the reporters from the Capitol would come here to interview her friends. They would probably start in the orphanage, but everyone there would honestly say her only friend anymore was Marissa. So, if she was going to be in the center of attention, the more innocent she remembered her, the better. 

She would get herself a more capable image in the Arena, anyway. 

“Why do you say so?” She asked then, with fake naivety. 

“He'll be pissed off about being tribute with you. The moment your name was called, everyone knew the other tribute didn't stand a chance as long as you are alive. I don't think anyone missed you playing house with the psychos that are our Victors.” Marissa explained. 

She was right. Of course, he would also know that if he killed Abigail, then he was on his own. Most probably even if he wasn't the one to kill her too, but Marissa would probably figure that one out eventually. 

“Thank you, I will be careful.” Abigail hugged her friend, who hugged her back until the peacekeepers made her go. 

She half expected someone from the orphanage to come in next; she wasn't close to anyone, but it felt like something she would feel obligated to do for them if the things were the other way around. However, the two figures that came in next were far more familiar. 

“Is it allowed for mentors to come to say goodbye to the tributes?” She asked with a little smile that was answered in kind by Hannibal. Will looked too grumpy to smile, but he patted her head affectionally and sat next to her. 

“It's certainly not orthodox, but there is no rule against it. The Boyle boy has still a few people waiting, and you had not, so no one saw a problem with allowing us in.” Explained Hannibal, looking as in control as always. Abigail found it comforting; it was easier to pretend everything would be okay when someone she trusted acted like it. 

Will looked like he wanted to throw something at him, but somewhere along their years as a couple they found a way to control their most violent instincts. That's probably the reason they hadn't kill each other. 

“Miss Foster told us to wish you luck on her and all the kids' part, but they didn't want to overwhelm you by ambushing you here.” Said Will instead. Well, at least they hadn't completely forgotten about her in the orphanage. 

Molly was the sweet woman that took care of the youngest ones, so she never interacted a lot with her, but she was probably genuine when wishing her good luck. Molly was probably also relieved that it was Abigail, and not one of the girls that she was really attached to, or even her own son that went with her, but she wouldn't hold a grudge for that. 

Abigail nodded to the information. She knew she couldn't break down yet; there would be cameras waiting outside the building. She needed to remain composed. 

“So, no changes in the mentor's distribution?” She asked to make the two men talk, as she didn't have the energy to. They both seemed to understand. 

“No changes,” responded Hannibal. “Will said that he, and I quote, couldn't be bothered to pretend he expected any other result that you coming back. I don't think that is quite the spirit Mr. Boyle needs, so I'll take his mentorship and you will deal with Will's moodiness.” 

Despite the words, he sounded fond of Will's “moodiness”. It was also understood without saying that he shared Will's wishes for the results of the games; he was just better at dissimulating. Or was disposed to at all. 

“He will be a pain to deal with,” started analyzing Will to indulge her wish of conversation. “He feels entitled just for the fact he was a month short of getting out at all. He's already jealous of Abigail and will second guess any advice you give him because he will think it sabotage. You'll need luck just to keep him out of the bloodbath. He needs either a strong alliance with other strong tributes so he doesn't depend on us, or he will stay with Abigail, knowing it's the only way to get sponsor's gifts.” 

He wasn't worried about him, that was good. Nicolas sounded easy enough to manage. Abigail sighed and rested her head in Will's shoulder, deciding to just relax for however long they had left before they took them to the train. Hannibal filled the silence with recommendations about the food they would be eating in the next days, and the familiar noise was enough to calm her down. 

When they eventually departed, Abigail prepared her best smile for the cameras. She took a glance at her district partner; red eyes and he was ignoring the cameras. She poked him in the ribs with her elbow and with a glance told him to get himself together. For a moment, it looked like he would ignore her, but then seemed to think better and nodded. For the rest of their way to the station, and then while waiting for the boarding, he managed a small smile, and some acknowledges with his hand to the cameras. 

Good. If Will was right, and he usually was, then both would be stuck in an alliance for part of the games, and she wouldn't allow him to scare off possible sponsors for a shitty attitude. 

When she reached her room on the train, she finally gave herself the chance for a few tears. There weren't many more left, she had known since her father’s execution that this would be her destiny. Hannibal and Will warned her. 

She had been preparing for this, she knew her strategy better than her name. Still, there was just so much one could prepare for the games. She didn't know her enemies, she didn't even know the arena. She may just die on the first day. 

But she had also been thinking all of that for the last year, so the few tears left dried quick. 

Will took off the coat he was wearing as soon as he reached the train. The temperature was ridiculously high for it, and he only put it in the first place because he had two options; play as Hannibal's dress doll, or as Alana's, who had been the District principal designer for the games for the last few years. 

He had nothing against Alana, in fact, he quite liked her. She was very... sober, for a Capitol citizen and she seemed to genuinely care for her tributes, so it wasn't a bad company for however long their tributes survived. 

Better company than Freddie, anyways. 

Still, if he had to choose at least Hannibal allowed him some input, so it was somehow better. 

“So, you truly think I will have problems keeping Mr. Boyle out of the bloodbath?” His husband asked him. 

He had to turn back to consider if it was a serious question, but Hannibal wasn't looking at him, too busy taking off his tie. 

Of course, his ego would be stuck in Will's questioning of his abilities. 

“You could convince him to commit suicide before the games even start, and you know it. You don't need me stroking your ego. Abigail needed me to confirm he is an idiot she can manipulate, and he is, I just made sure my point got across.” He said bitterly. 

It didn't seem to matter to Hannibal, who looked at him as adoring as he had since before his games, which were already 25 years ago. Well, it wasn't as if Will minded. 

“I have confidence Abigail will manage whatever comes her way. She's our daughter, after all.” Hannibal said with all confidence, but Will could see the fear under that. 

He closed the distance between them and buried himself in Hannibal's arms, trying to comfort him without words. They wouldn't speak their fear out loud, it would make the possibility all too real. 

The possibility of Abigail dying in the Arena. 

He felt once again like his fourteen-year-old self, being left behind in the District, having to watch Hannibal murder his way back to him. He could imagine Hannibal was feeling like the eighteen-year-old boy that had to mentor Will in his first year as a Victor. 

They had thought they would never go through this again, but life kept giving them things, just to take them away. 

Hannibal's fingers carded through his hair in a soothing, for both, motion. They had known this would happen since they decided to take in Abigail, but even without the surprise, the pain of knowing they wouldn't be able to protect her was sharp. 

They moved to sit on the bed but remained embraced until they heard Freddie's voice announcing dinner. 

They separated and made sure they were presentable before going to the dining room on the train. Will sat next to Abigail, who was already there, and Hannibal took place in front of him, leaving the sit in front of her for when Nicholas Boyle joined them. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Abigail.” Greeted her Freddie, who was sat at the head of the table. “I had no idea Hannibal and Will had adopted a daughter, and yet that was what the peacekeepers at the Justice Building told me when I asked why those two went to you instead of any other family.” 

A snarl made its way out of his throat without his conscious permission. Hannibal gave him a reproachful look, and Abigail smiled. He really needed to get a hold of himself in front of that woman, she loved to get a reaction out of him. 

Abigail diverted the attention by explaining that no, they didn't adopt her, they just looked after her since her parents died. 

“Still, you must be something special to make them look your way. Tell me, Abigail, what made you so special in their eyes?” 

Before she could make up something, Nicholas Boyle joined them and answered for her. 

“Her original father was also a killer.” He took his seat and started eating. 

Will had to re-evaluate the idea he had of the boy. He had assumed that Nicholas Boyle somehow understood the big disadvantage he found himself in and would act accordingly. His antagonistic comment, however, served no purpose but dig his own grave deeper. 

After a second, he concluded that he was just an emotional teenager that didn't know how to filter his thoughts. Once again, he was glad he wouldn't be mentoring him. One look at Hannibal told him he had had the same train of thought and was planning what would be the best method to get him to do what they wanted. 

Abigail, as sharp as always, took the comment in stride, and the next moment asked Hannibal about some of the dishes in front of them, not giving Freddie time to ask more questions. 

She would ask them eventually, her eyes were those of a predator after her prey, and that prey would be the complete story. 

How she ended an escort instead of a journalist, he will never understand. 

They took their time eating; the boy was probably trying to delay the inevitable moment of turning on the TV and watching the other tributes, their new enemies by all accounts. The rest just enjoyed the food. Even Abigail, as nervous as he knew she was, decided to take the chance to further her palate; even if she mostly ate with them back at home, most of these ingredients couldn't be acquired outside the Capitol. 

He would know, Hannibal loved to complain about it. 

When everyone finished their food, they moved to the small living room with the television. They turned it on, and they were just on time for the recap of the other reapings. 

Will and Hannibal commented on each tribute, although most of it was unfounded speculation, as they only had a few seconds of each tribute standing on a stage. Nicholas seemed to understand that and was probably ignoring their comments; Abigail, on the other hand, took note of every suggestion. 

She knew by now that they were as accurate as one could be even in their “unfounded speculations”. 

Nicholas only looked at them, more specifically at Will, when the boy from District Seven was called. A twelve-year-old boy in his bones, probably sick by the greenish tone of his skin, and with a limping in his left leg. Will knew that sometimes the strategy was to appear weak, but this wasn't like that. 

“If any of you have the chance, give that boy a quick death. Is the best he can hope for in the Arena.” He said it as fact. It was like putting an injured animal to sleep, a kindness. 

Hannibal smiled at him, loving his compassion as much as his cruelty, but in their life he'd had many more chances at seeing the cruelty. Panem was no place for compassion. Freddie had already had years to get used to his comments, so she didn't acknowledge it. 

Abigail just nodded, clearly having thought the same as him. She saw vulnerability and when she realized she couldn't help him, she decided to crush him quicker. 

He bit his lip not to laugh at the use of the metaphor created by his long diseased district partner. 

Nicolas looked at him as if he had just kicked a baby. He clearly hadn't fully understood his situation, kill or be killed. Not that he had any chance of winning, but it would be useful if he got on with the situation. 

Freddie spent more time watching him and Hannibal interact with Abigail, even as brief as those interactions were than watching the recaps. Eventually, he gave in and mouthed a _later, with Alana_ at her, which seemed to pacify her enough. 

Good, she would be also a vital part of the plan, even if that meant Will had to actually work with her. 

“Well, darlings” announced Freddie. “You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, you better go to sleep early.” 

She shooed the teenagers to their rooms and then fixed her gaze on the two left. 

“Nicholas Boyle won't be coming back, will he?” Her voice carried more an accusation than a question. 

“No, he won't” answered Hannibal. “You, however, will finally have your victor.” 

Freddie's smile gave away her satisfaction. She wanted a story, a victor, and the recognition that came with that. 

“Then I trust you will tell us your plan tomorrow after the parade. It won't be any good if our team isn't in sync.” She turned around and walked away, not waiting for an answer. 

He and Hannibal then started their way to their room, enjoying the silence. Only when they reached their destination, did they started speaking. 

“Any other thoughts you want to share about the other tributes?” Asked Hannibal. 

“Painfully average, all of them. The careers are full of themselves, the rest are starving kids. By this time next year, no one will remember any of them.” 

“Nor will they remember the winner, if we make our job right.” They were aware of the microphones in their room. No place was safe to talk, so they could only be vague about the plan. 

It didn't matter, they've had a year to perfect it. 

“Freddie and Alana won't like the strategy, who wants an inconspicuous Victor? It won't keep them in the spotlight.” It wouldn't change their plans, but it was time to address it.

“Don't worry, beloved. Abigail will win Alana over in a second, and she will see reason.” Hannibal extended his hand to cup Will's face, letting his thumb caress his husband's cheek. “Freddie will see she's out-numbered, and even a boring winner is better than no winner at all.” 

Will couldn't resist nuzzling into the other's hand. Hannibal's comforting presence was sometimes the only thing that kept him sane. 

“A month from now,” he said, looking at Hannibal's eyes. “we'll be with Abigail, on our way home. She will finally be left alone.” 

“Long live Abigail Hobbs.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail had known she would be the tribute for the 73rd Hunger Games, but what was the story behind that tragedy?

[September, over a month after the end of the 72nd Hunger Games. District 10.] 

Abigail could feel the tension in every muscle of her body. She hated this part the most. Her father's latest victim, and hers too if she were, to be honest, was laid on the table. The girl was slightly older than her, and so she didn't know her name this time. It was better that way, maybe the nightmares wouldn't be as vivid. 

The family's repair workshop provided them with enough space to clean the bodies, and her mother worked with the pig livestock during the day, which gave them the utmost privacy to 'work'. Abigail almost wished they were caught, if only so she could stop hearing her father saying he was killing them so he wouldn't have to kill her. 

Almost, but not enough to put her life on the line. If life in the Districts taught you something, it was to survive. 

“Abigail, have you seen the gutting knife?” Asked her father. 

She looked around for the tool, but found nothing, and said so. They borrowed the knife from where the limited livestock for the district was killed. It was a very small percentage, especially for a population of almost 20 thousand, but most people couldn’t afford it more than once or twice a month, anyway. 

It was strange, she was sure she had put it in its place after last time. It should have been in the drawer. The same that was now unlocked. 

“I need you to go borrow one, this can’t wait.” He instructed her. She nodded reluctantly, it was early afternoon and everyone would be at work, she would have to steal it from under their noses. 

She stepped outside the workshop and started walking east, to where the butchery was, but she hadn’t gone farther than a few steps where a pair of arms dragged her to an alley, one hand covering her mouth. She started panicking until she heard the voice of the owner of the arms. 

“It’s okay, Abigail, just listen to me for a moment.” The man was no other than Will Graham, victor of the 49th Hunger Games, and one of the two remaining victors of the district. 

Abigail hadn’t talked much with him, just a few cordialities and once he took his clock to their workshop, but unlike most everyone else, she wasn’t afraid of him. He looked grumpy, and tired, but not like the psycho that everyone else thought of him, maybe she knew madness too intimately. 

That was, of course, until he dragged her to an empty alley without warning. Still, she nodded to indicate she was listening, and he relaxed his arms so she could step away. He looked composed, more than usual, she could almost see his brain working behind his eyes. 

“They know about your father.” 

Her whole body froze. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, trying to will her voice not to shiver. 

Will, in response, got a knife from under his coat. The knife she had been looking for minutes ago. He knew, and he had stolen the knife. He knew. 

“Your dad is already a dead man, Abigail. You can go back right now, warn him, but he can’t hide the evidence fast enough.” His steady voice clearly intended to calm her enough to process the information. It was working. 

“Why are you telling me this, then?” There was no point in pretending any other question mattered at the moment. 

“Because there’s still a choice you can make. You can go back, and be executed with him, or you can choose to survive.” 

Survive. That was what it was all about. 

“They will know I help him, or at least that I knew. How could I not?” 

It was impossible for her to be at the workshop and not know. The evidence was everywhere. The body was on the table. 

“I can give you an alibi, I have a plan. Can you trust me to take care of it?” His tone was earnest, and she had complete certainty that he was telling the truth. She just had to go with him and she would survive. Time was of essence. 

She had survived her father; she had survived three other girls that were now dead. Now she needed to survive this. She could do it. 

“I trust you.” 

That was all the man needed. He took her arm and guided her for the back alleys where no-one was at this hour. They reached one of the farmhouses where the herding dogs slept. Some of them must have been doing their job outside, but some were laying there. 

Will gave her a sponge and a towel and showed her to a few buckets with water. He wet his own sponge and splashed them both out. 

“Make sure you reek of wet dog. As far as everyone here knows, you came here from school to help me.” He instructed, at the same time he kneeled to actually start washing the dogs. She followed his lead. “Actually, you have come a few times in the past month to help me out. Take the little bag over the table when you go, it’s enough money to make it believable.” 

She looked over the table and saw the small bag. She wondered how much was there. She almost felt guilty, not only was he lying for her, but he was also giving her money to make her alibi, but then, he was a victor and was in no way wanting for money. 

In fact, he didn’t need to work in washing and training the herding dogs at all, he just liked to do it, and no one would reject someone working for free. 

However, another part of his instructions claimed her attention. For the last month? He had been planning this since the first girl. 

“Why are you helping me?” Her voice was almost a whisper, but he heard her over the dog’s breathing. 

“We feel… responsible for you.” He didn’t elaborate on who we were, she understood anyway. 

Responsible. That explained a lot. 

“You told the peacekeepers about my dad; you knew it was him all along.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew them to be true. 

She supposed this was a safe place to talk, as he had been the first one to say some pretty incriminating statements. 

“District Ten is one of those districts where everyone will starve in silence. Other districts, like Eleven and Four, are feeling more unstable each day. Our district keeps a low profile, and therefore laxer security. If your dad wasn’t caught, they would have eventually strengthened the security.” He didn’t make eye contact, she had a feeling it wasn’t his thing, but she stared at him anyway. “More security is bad news for everyone, starting from everyone who lives of illegal commerce, but not ending there.” 

He wasn’t going to tell her the whole story, not now at least, but she could start connecting the dots. 

They probably waited for his father to mess up on his own, and when he didn’t, they took matters into their own hands. That, apparently, included saving her from the mess her father had gotten her into. 

He seemed to follow her train of thought because he decided to reassure her. 

“There is something in you, Abigail, potential. You’re a survivor. If someone will understand the price you paid for survival, it’ll be Hannibal and me.” 

He was right. Will and Hannibal had won their own games. They had killed to survive, they understood her. 

She felt relief in all her body. She knew now what happened, the motives, and her position in all of it. For the first time since her father snapped, she felt in control. 

Ten minutes later, which had been spent in a comforting silence, they heard people screaming and running on the outside. They stood up and went outside, she quickly grabbed the bag Will told her, and followed the multitude to Central Square, in front of the Justice Building. Will took her arm, a clear sign not to separate from him, and that was all she needed to know what was going on, even if there were too many people in front of her to clearly see. 

She clung to Will’s arm, the only physical display of her internal torment. She probably left some bruises, but Will didn’t make any attempt at stopping her. 

The peacekeeper screamed his crimes, and everyone else screamed for his blood. One bullet, and Abigail was an orphan. She didn’t know it yet, but Will would explain to her later than his father managed to dodge the peacekeepers long enough to reach the butchery, and when he didn’t find her there, he went to where her mom worked and sliced her neck before he was shot in both legs and dragged to a public execution. 

She didn’t realize when had it happened, but they were now surrounded by peacekeepers. 

“You aren’t taking her anywhere without me; I don’t care if I need to go with Mayor Crawford.” Will put himself between her and the head of security. They stared at each other for what she felt like an eternity, and in the end, they force them both through the crowd into the Justice Building. 

Will, keeping his word, didn’t let them be separated until Mayor Crawford entered the room with the head of Peacekeepers. 

“Will, please. I promise you they just want to talk to her.” Will reluctantly agreed and left the room. Not without giving her a supporting pat on the head. 

His awkwardness at physical affection was funny enough to help her calm down, at least so she could play the part to the daughter in shock. 

Will was lying for her; she couldn’t let him down. 

“Miss Hobbs, you understand why was your father executed?” Asked the peacekeeper. Abigail felt she should know his name, but she couldn’t for her life remember anything at the moment. 

“He killed those girls, didn’t he? The ones who had disappeared in the last month.” She made her voice shiver a little in the end, but not too much. Like she was trying to remain calm. Then he added what Will had heard while they waited. “He also killed my mom.” 

At that one, she allowed herself to lower her head. She didn’t need to fake her surprise or pain at that one. 

“Yes, he did. Usually, you work at his workshop after school, could you tell us, where were you?” Asked her Crawford. 

She nodded and started telling them the story. Will had been paying her to help him with the dogs every few days. The business had been slow, so her father saw more productive to let her go with Will. She didn’t hesitate, but she also didn’t give too much detail, any of those would be suspicious. 

When they asked about the paid, she forced a startled look on her face, before reaching for the small bag with money. She still didn’t know how much it was, but it was apparently the perfect amount not to raise more suspicion. 

Mayor Crawford looked relieved; the head Peacekeeper looked enraged. She had the feeling he didn’t believe her. 

Or maybe he didn’t care if she was guilty or not. 

She was left alone in the room for a few hours. She decided to try and find out what was happening, so she left silently the room and started walking to where voices were heard. 

“Will, you can’t know for certain if she knew or not, and the situation doesn’t look good for her.” She recognized the Mayor’s voice. Much for looking relieved earlier. He was probably trying to give her a fake sense of security. Maybe he was hoping she slipped up. 

“I know her Jack, she had been working for me for weeks now. Her father probably went crazy when she started working outside the workshop, he felt as if he was losing her. He probably killed all those girls, that looked like Abigail, so he didn’t kill her.” 

So he didn’t kill her. 

Hearing her father’s words coming out of Will’s mouth was enough to send a shiver down her spine. For the first time, she realized she didn’t know how had he and Hannibal known about her father in the first place. 

“That is unfounded speculation, are you sure you aren’t letting your fondness for the girl cloud your judgment?” 

“What I’m sure of is that this year two kids in my charge already died, and I’m not letting a third being executed for her father’s crimes. You already lost three other girls, are you sure you want a sixth child to be killed?” Will’s voice was filled with emotion, and Abigail suspected not all of it was faked. 

She had never thought about how must it be for victors to go mentor new tributes and watch them die every year. There was something else though, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it… 

“He’s appealing to his weakness.” Abigail jumped at the voice, as she hadn’t heard anyone’s footsteps, but once she turned around and saw Hannibal, she forced herself to relax. This man was on her side too. Ignoring her small display of weakness, he kept explaining. “Mr. Crawford always wanted kids, but he and his wife Bella were never able to conceive. He also hates the games as much as everyone in the districts, hates sending kids to die every year. Will’s emphasis in calling you a child is appealing to a fatherly feeling desperate to crawl out.” 

So that was what she felt in Will’s words. Manipulation. She analyzed Hannibal’s words and founded that, although very enlightening, they were also devoid of any incriminating fact. Of course, Will would appeal to someone’s weakness when trying to save an innocent, it was natural. 

“We should go back to the room you were instructed to stay in, we wouldn’t want someone to find you wandering around the halls.” He started walking the way she had come from, and she followed obediently. 

“What about you? Are you allowed to be here at all?” She inquired. It wasn’t risky territory, as he had already made his presence known to anyone to wanted to check the cameras or mics in here. 

“They aren’t quite sure what to make with you yet, and should the worst come to pass, I’m their best bet at keeping Will behaved.” Abigail found it a little bit unnerving how he talked about her possible execution and whatever keeping Will ‘behaved’ meant as if talking about the weather. 

She also found it comforting. It was as if his strength bled a little into her. 

They arrived at the room and waited there in silence until Mayor Crawford entered, with Will and another woman Abigail didn’t know at his side. 

She looked at Will’s face, hoping to find a hint of what was going on, but he was as inexpressive as his husband now. Thankfully, Mayor Crawford explained the situation quickly. 

“Miss Hobbs, this is Molly Foster, she’s the principal caretaker of the orphanage. She’ll accompany you home, so you take your things and show you to your new home. Your old house and the workshop will be seized.” She supposed she should be sad for her house, but that was completely overshadowed by what all of that meant. 

Will and Hannibal shared a smile with her, but something wasn’t quite relaxed in Will’s eyes. She couldn’t ask him now, not knowing what the nature of the problem was, but she trusted he would tell her later if it involved her. 

For now, she was a new orphan, but she was alive. 

She followed Molly out of the building and into her house. She had tried to make conversation, but Abigail had gently shut it down. She really wanted time to really process what had happened that day. 

As it turns out, she only had that night. The following day, she woke up in the orphanage, with her five new roommates between the ages 15 and 17, the oldest of the house. 

It was Sunday, so they didn’t have to go to school, and they kindly offered to help her find a job before they went to theirs, as everyone over fifteen had started working. The resources they gave the orphanage were barely enough for a family of four, so feeding nineteen people with that was out of question. Everyone over twelve asked for tesserae, and everyone over fifteen worked. 

As they were making a brainstorm for ideas of where could help be needed, Molly solved the problem with her announcement. 

“Abigail, Mr. Graham told me he could use your assistance as something regular, so you already got a job.” Everyone looked relieved at that, as having another mouth to feed without another income would be hell. 

Abigail, in particular, was relieved to hear that Will hadn’t just abandoned her once her life was no longer on the line. Without noticing, she had been frightened that she would be left alone with her secrets. 

Everyone got ready for the respective jobs, and the younger ones to clean the house and help Molly with whatever needed to be done. 

Abigail had never gone into Victor’s Village, she was sure almost no one had, so she couldn’t help to stare. The houses were gigantic, and everything looked clean and well cared of, the difference between the rest of the district, where most houses were almost falling apart and everything reeked of the livestock was astronomical. 

Nowadays, only one house was occupied, so she walked there and knocked on the door. 

Hannibal, who had been obviously cooking, as he had an apron on, opened the door for her and invited her inside. 

“You’re on time for breakfast.” He announced as he guided her to the kitchen. As the rest of the house, it was big and clean, but it also looked very lived in. She had some vague memory of Hannibal’s ‘talent’ being cooking, or at least he had been invited to some cooking shows when he was dragged to the Capitol every year for the Games. 

She debated herself if she should accept the food or not. Breakfast was a rarity, reserved for special occasions or where the food was soon to spoil. Most of the time a small lunch and a light dinner was everything you could afford; going without one or of them very frequently. If you had a bad time, you would go without both. 

The food Hannibal had prepared, however, smelled delicious, and she realized that there were three places already on the table, only one was currently occupied by Will, who looked as if he hadn’t slept a single hour. Maybe he hadn’t. 

She decided food was never to be turned down, and sat next to Will, living the place in front of him for Hannibal. 

It was the best food Abigail had ever eaten. Hannibal said it was a simple dish, something like protein scramble or whatever, but the flavor of each of the ingredients was strong enough to enjoy by itself. She said so, and Hannibal looked delighted at having someone else to cook for, especially someone so enthusiastic about it. 

The conversation didn’t stray from safe topics, but she wasn’t sure if it was more of a ‘this place isn’t safe’ or a ‘not when eating’ thing. Eventually, when they finished, she helped Hannibal with the dishes while Will went to another room for a bag that looked pretty full. She didn’t ask what it was for and they didn’t offer. 

When the kitchen was spotless again, Will told her to follow him, and she was just slightly surprised when Hannibal joined them. She was, however, surprised at where were they heading. It was an abandoned cabin almost outside the district perimeter, but not quite. She had never seen it, as nothing was nearby enough to make you walk here unless you were looking for it. 

They went in and Will threw the bag over the table. Curiosity got the better of her, so she went to the bag, and after a nod of approval from both men, she opened it. 

She wasn’t sure what was she expecting, but it was not this. There were a few knives, like the ones she used to use with her father’s victims. There were also a few pieces of chalk, and a few books. One, she could see was a guide to edible plants. To say she was confused at what was going on would be the understanding of the century. 

“What is this for?” She asked finally, deciding she wouldn’t be able to figure it out on her own. 

“To train you.” Answered Hannibal. Thankfully, Will elaborated without the need for prompting. 

“They didn’t believe me. They are sure you knew about your father, all the peacekeepers. Not even Jack is convinced of your innocence, but I got him to plead for your case.” Her body had gone rigid once again. 

They didn’t believe it. She felt her world fall apart but was still coherent enough to ask what drummed her head. 

“Then why am I alive?” 

“While my husband wasn’t able to convince the peacekeepers, he did convince almost everyone else.” Hannibal looked at her with something, not quite compassion, but close. Understating, she would say. “Executing you would have caused unnecessary civil unrest, and they have enough of that in other districts.” 

Yes, she remembered Will saying something similar the previous day, but she was getting annoyed at not being given straight answers. 

So, they didn’t believe in her innocence. They didn’t want a public execution. She couldn’t understand what were they training her for. 

“What is going to happen to me?” Her voice left no place for more detours. 

“Abigail…” Started Will but couldn’t finish his thought. Hannibal took the cue to finish for him. 

“They’ll do the same as they did to us. They will rig the name draw, and you will be the next female tribute of District 10 for the Hunger Games.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will keep this formant of one chapter being Abigail's games and the other will be the story before them. This one was still about Abigail, but from chapter 4 onwards the chapter about the past will be Will and Hannibal's story and their own games.
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter :D Please feel free to comment on what do you think about the story until now, and if you are excited to see something in particular :3 Until next Saturday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the 73rd Hunger Games, Abigail has her first introduction to the Capitol.

[73rd Hunger Games. Capitol.]

Abigail had always thought Will was being overdramatic when he complained about the preparation teams for the tributes, but he may have been right this time. She had been poked at her whole body for the last three hours. She was bored.

Thankfully, the time for a pause finally arrived, and it was there when she finally met her stylist. Alana Bloom. Will and Hannibal had told her which angle to use with her, so she was ready to get her on her side. Not that it would prove very difficult, as the woman obviously had a soft heart for her tributes.

Abigail wondered how she had ended up in a place where she could only get attached to kids that would die in a matter of days, but she kept those thoughts to herself.

"Hello, Abigail, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I see your prep team is almost finished with you, so I came to talk about your clothes for tonight." She shook her hand, gave her a silky robe, and guided her to a living room next to where they had been bathing her and putting who-knows how many oils on her skin. It did feel softer now, but she doubted it would last more than the first twelve hours of the games.

She sat on one large sofa and took notice of the appetizers on the table in front of her. Not one to deny food, she took some of the most extravagant looking ones to try them. She would have to remember how they tasted so she could ask Hannibal about them.

She realized now that she hadn't given the Opening Ceremony a lot of thought. She should have, of course, as it was the first taste the Capitol would have of her. Nothing was decided on it, of course, but in the long run, it could define her future; in the games and after them. And they were playing the long game, thinking of the next hundred moves.

"The pleasure is mine, Alana. Will and Hannibal talk dearly of you, I’ve wanted to meet you for months now." She gave her a charming smile, and then let her face fall back to a more neutral expression. "Of course, these are not exactly the circumstances I fantasized about."

She saw the pain in Alana’s eyes, she clearly wasn’t hiding anything. An open book. Hannibal was right when telling her an innocent facade would be the best option. Not too much, that would make her suspicious, but just enough so she would awaken a protective feeling on her. She wondered in the back of her head how far the rumors Freddie was bound to spread had gotten.

Alana got herself together after a few seconds and decided to hatch on the less depressing part of Abigail’s words.

"Are you close to Hannibal and Will, then? While Hannibal is a splendid company, I can’t quite imagine Will opening himself to a near stranger. He’s private like that." She was openly curious, but in a kind way, not in an accusing way, like Freddie had been.

"Yes, very close. After my parents died a few months ago, they have taken care of me and make sure I’m alright. I also spend a lot of time with them, they feel like my fathers now." She let a sweet smile cover her face. It was not particularly difficult, as the overall sentiment was truthful. She did think of them as her new parents, and she could see well enough that they thought of her as their daughter in return.

It was certainly an unconventional arrangement, but she liked it.

The words, however, were carefully chosen. Will and Hannibal would have soon a more detailed discussion of their strategy in respect of what will they make of her, but it was important Alana saw her as a sweet, cheerful girl. She could see Alana was already getting attached.

Good.

"So, what will my clothes be? A cowgirl, I guess?" A little bit of sassiness, to break the moment, and go back to the topic of the Opening Ceremony. There was not much Abigail could do, as the costumes were almost done and she would just stand there looking pretty, but she wanted to know as much detail as possible.

"Yes, actually. I know it’s not extremely original, but Hannibal told me something more common to fit their strategy will be just fine." She frowned a little, clearly not liking being out of the loop. She obviously saw a conflicting narrative between the "family" Abigail had painted, and Hannibal’s wishes for their costumes to remain average.

It didn’t matter, she would understand soon.

She tried the costume on Abigail, to check if some measurement adjustment had to be done, and Abigail was at least glad that the colors were deep reds and blues, and nothing of the shiny sequins she had seen in other tributes in past years. Those looked ridiculous.

After some more small talk, Alana left to finish adjusting the costume, and Abigail was once more alone again with her prep team. She couldn’t quite understand how they were finding that many defects on her skin. To entertain herself and avoid thinking of the empty conversation her team was having, she closed her eyes and retreated to her mind, to the farmhouse where Will and she tended to the dogs. She felt a warm and homey feeling overcome her, and so she spent the next few hours wondering how dirty the dogs would be when they finally went back home.

When the time for the ceremony was finally there, she found herself in her carriage next to Nicholas. He looked quite pissed off, and she could only imagine which kind of tasteless comments had his team done. It was not that she thought they would be purposely rude or anything, they were just ignorant. That’s why she decided to ignore them completely.

He, however, hadn’t managed to ignore them. Abigail looked around for a distraction for him, as she didn’t want to endure his gloomy silence, and found the perfect one three carriages in front of them.

"Well, I don’t think we’ll impress anyone with the cowboy look, but it could be worse. District Seven came as trees again." She made sure only Nicholas heard her, as making unnecessary enemies was not part of the plan, but she did get a small chuckle in response, and the air felt lighter again.

The kids from Seven did look ridiculous. It was a wonder their stylist hadn’t been fired yet. She has a vague memory of Will telling her that the most recent Victor of that district, Johanna Mason, was vocally against those stupid costumes, since she had also been forced into one, but apparently another year passed without her complaints being considered.

She smiled when she saw Hannibal, Will, Alana, and the other stylist coming. The stylists went straight to making sure everything was in its place, and Hannibal and Will started instructing them on how to act.

"None of you are intimidating enough to try a feistier approach to your image, so you’ll take the more friendly and excited approach. We’ll define the finer details for your interview depending on your training scores, but for now, smile and don’t fall off the carriage." Will didn’t leave a place for question, so they didn’t ask any. Both he and Hannibal, however, took the opportunity that gave them when Nicholas was too busy trying to keep the cowboy hat in place, to take each one of Abigail’s hand and give her a reassuring squeeze.

It didn’t go unnoticed to Alana, however, but Abigail was sure it wasn’t intended to.

The trumpets announced the beginning of the ceremony, and all the stylist and mentors made their way out of the room and into their seats. Abigail brought her most charming and cheerful smile to her face and prepared to send kissed to everyone in the public.

Never mind that she wished she could kill all of them.

  
  


Hannibal took the lead to guide Will to their seats on Victor’s box seat. They arrived in time to see the first carriage come out and hear the excited cheers of the public.

They all made the relevant comments to each district’s costumes, including some jokes at Johanna’s expense when the now traditional trees from the Seven district came out.

It wasn’t until the carriage from District 10 came out, that someone gave any indication of having heard the new rumors at all.

"Hannibal, Will, what’s that I heard of your tribute being your daughter or something?" Asked no other than Finnick Odair. Will gave Hannibal a self-satisfied smile, as he was the one that assured him Freddie wouldn’t resist the temptation of starting to spread rumors before she got the complete story. Or at least the official version of the story.

It wasn’t surprising that if the rumors had indeed started to spread, it would be Finnick the first to hear them. He was, after all, forced into more intimate interaction with the Capitol citizens than the rest of them, he always knew the latest gossip.

"I assure you it’s nothing as scandalous as you may be thinking. She lost her parents last year, and she had been working for Will for some time, so it was only natural that he took a more paternal role in her life when she needed it, and by extension, I did too." Hannibal assured everyone that was looking expectantly at them.

Even if between other victors they didn’t have quite the "psychos" reputation they had back at their district, they were by no means the kind of people others would expect to make such selfless and kind actions.

When the rest of the rumors started running, and they heard about Garret Jacob Hobbs, Hannibal was sure they would be less surprised.

"The Games are some part of a family ritual, then?" asked Chaff, the victor of District 11. He was one of the few that knew the truth behind the misfortune of their consecutive reaping, and so it was clear the understated question there. Everyone else who knew, as the mentors from District Four, Seven, and Three, looked expectant at them, having also understood the real question behind Chaff’s words.

"Well, every family needs their traditions, don’t you think?" Was all Will said, but it was enough so they would understand. They looked at them with second-hand rage on their part. Hannibal wasn’t sure the feeling would remain if they knew Abigail was actually guilty of what they accused her of, but they knew that he was also guilty of what he was accused of, all those years ago, and they still talked to them, so maybe the feeling would indeed remain.

After all, everyone was intimately acquainted with murder in the name of survival, even in a somehow different environment. The conversation was re-directed to the tributes after that, some comments about stylists that would retire this year. Johanna’s, to her misfortune, was not between those.

The rest of the Opening Ceremony went without incident. Hannibal watched Abigail follow their instructions, giving the public her best smile. Mr. Boyle was doing a significantly poorer job at it, but at least he wasn’t being openly antagonistic to the audience. They would have to make do with that. He would have to make sure the kid understood the importance of internalizing his justified hate for everyone in the Capitol, as no one would sponsor that, and that could sabotage Abigail’s way to triumph, something he couldn’t allow.

When the ceremony ended, he made his way to the Training Facilities, leaving Will behind to work on another part of the plan. Usually, it was Hannibal who dealt with the sponsors, but for this one in particular Will would be the best for the work.

He made his way to the tenth floor and found Abigail already changed into some more comfortable clothes, waiting at the table with Freddie and Alana. He asked about Clark’s, Mr. Boyle’s stylist, absence, but Alana just said he was feeling tired and had no energy to keep up with the spirit.

This could also be interpreted as him not wanting to be in the same room as Will, who had looked at him once and despised him immediately. For once, Hannibal did not complain about his husband’s rudeness, as everyone else shared a similar opinion about Ingram Clark. Hannibal founded him not worthy to even talk to, Alana was visibly uncomfortable around him, and even Freddie pointedly did not tease Will about his manners towards him.

"Where’s Will?" Asked Alana after the greeting, as she had not had a chance to meet Will yet.

"Doing his work as a mentor, of course, sponsors must be sought out from day one."

"And you decided Will was the best asset to attract sponsors?" Asked Freddie with pointed skepticism. Even if she was particularly antagonistic to Will, she wasn’t unfair in her assessment. Sponsors seldom wanted to be growled at by the mentors.

"I assure you, Will knows to be in his best behavior for this." Alana didn’t seem to be very pacified with that, but Freddie understood there was more to the matter than that and smiled. Mr. Boyle chose that moment to join them at the table, where they started eating with some light conversation. Abigail asked him after some appetizer she had tasted while getting ready. Alana looked surprised at Abigail’s detailed descriptions, being accustomed to poorer palates from the district kids, but looked happy enough to name the dish if Abigail's description wasn’t enough for him to guess.  
  
Even Freddie seemed happy enough to share some of her favorite appetizers, endorsing Abigail to try them in some moment, seeming as she was so well-known in matters of food.

Mr. Boyle was clearly uncomfortable, realizing that Abigail had gained the favor of Alana and Freddie too, and without his own stylist here, not that Hannibal thought Mr. Clark would be a good support, he was being as good as isolated from conversation.

Instead of trying to take the conversation somewhere he could prove to be a more active participant, he closed off and even gave very cold responses to Alana’s few attempts to make him talk. The boy was clearly too emotional to play the game as needed, and he knew he wasn’t the only one noticing.

It was until they had finished eating and moved to the living room to watch the recap of the Opening Ceremony, minus Mr. Boyle, who decided to retire early to sleep, that Will arrived. He looked deeply annoyed but gave a nod to the questioning look he sent. Things had gone well, then. That only left one possibility of his bad humor.

"Will, so good to finally see you!" Greeted Alana, while Abigail dragged him to sit next to her. That left Will between Abigail and Hannibal himself, and Freddie sitting next to Alana on the smaller sofa on their left. Will managed to avoid the conversation of where had he been until the transition finally started.

Alana gave her input about each district’s clothes, as did Freddie. Hannibal and Will, having already had this conversation with the other victors, watched in silence. Hannibal thought Abigail was merely following their lead, but when he looked her way, she was already dozing off on Will’s shoulder.

The four adults looked fondly at the girl, before finally waking her up and sending her to her room. The dozing off had probably been accidental, as she seemed genuinely flustered when woken up, the sleepy ‘night, dads’ she muttered before making her way to her bed was clearly on purpose. At least clearly for them.

Freddie turned off the television and turned to them expectantly.

"Is it finally ‘later’?" She asked in her high-pitched Capitol accent.

So, Hannibal gave her and Alana the official version of the facts, where Abigail was an innocent girl with terrible luck. Alana looked devastated at the story, and Freddie decisively less so, she looked more fascinated than anything.

"So, what’s with the ‘low profile’ you wanted Alana to work in the Opening Ceremony?"

This was the part Will had expressed his concerns about, but Hannibal already knew this would work.

"We want them to be intrigued by her, then love her, and by this time next year we want them to have forgotten about her." He explained with sincerity.

"You already started spreading the rumors about us, Freddie, now you need to also spread the rumors about her father." Will immediately picked up. Hannibal thought that his husband looked the most radiant when he had that fierce determination on his face. "She’ll be a contradiction; a sweet girl daughter of a killer, and then adopted by two of the most grotesque Victors, that will intrigue them. She’ll get a high enough score in her training to make people look her way, and after the interview, no other than Margot Verger will announce she will sponsor the girl."

Alana almost spits her fruity drink.

"Margot? The same Margot that has pointedly never shown interest in sponsoring a tribute?" Alana already knows that the answer is yes, but she still asks for clarification.

Margot’s absence from the sponsoring circle, opposite to her brother that loved to bet on the next winner, was more than a casual disinterest. She hated the games, and she was actively part of the small circle Capitol citizens that sided with the Districts, obviously in secret. Saying any of that out loud would be the highest form of treason,

"Margot has been a dear friend of mine for years now, as you know," was the explanation Will gave for her sudden change of heart. "When I explained her Abigail was like a daughter to me, she assured me she will sponsor her and asked to be let in the strategy, so she could help us get more sponsors."

Margot and Will had some strange friendship where they sat next to each other with a drink in hand without really talking and call it “hang out". She invited them to the parties her brother organized during the games, and it was usually enough public interaction so Will would be left alone for the rest of his stay in the Capitol.

The problem was that hanging out with Margot usually meant enduring Mason Verger. Hannibal found him unspeakably rude, and Will had murder rage for him on Margot’s behalf. Hannibal and Will had the theory that Margot’s hatred for the Games started because she could truly sympathize with the tributes, as a victim of abuse herself.

She was also very isolated from the rest of the capitol’s citizens, as Mason was very jealous of her. It was probably because of his morbid curiosity about Will, and the fact that he only came to the capitol for a month a year, that he allowed their friendship with minimum intervention.

That “minimum” was still far more Mason than Will’s patience could endure, so Hannibal was sure that was the reason behind his beloved annoyance when he arrived.

They gave the two women a moment to digest the information. They understood the magnitude of this, and they actually started to look hopeful.

"What about the part about the public forgetting about her after the games?" Freddie sounded intrigued, but not as repealed as Will had feared.

"You know what life is like for the favorites of the Capitol, show after show. Don’t you think Abigail has been through enough?" Hannibal puts on his best ’concerned father’ face, and he sees it make wonders. Alana found herself nodding without realizing it, and Freddie looked sympathetic enough.

Of course, that was not the real reason. Abigail had been sent to the games to die, and they won’t like her survival. Her best shot at being left alone was being forgotten. Being a popular victor would only keep her in the eye of the same people who wanted her dead.

They don’t like to lose at their own game, Will’s ripping the year after Hannibal’s victory, and the subsequent incident where Will’s father died were proof enough of that. She needed to be a liked, but not passion inspiring tribute. Hopefully, next year’s Games would be entertaining enough to get her out of the spotlight for good.

She would need to come as a mentor each year, of course, but she wouldn’t be in the spotlight unless her tribute got to the final ten tributes, which was rare enough so they wouldn’t have to worry about it for a few years.

"She must want just a quiet life." Concludes Alana. Will nodded with exhaustion, looking at both her and Freddie.

"Will you help us give her the calm life she deserves?" Ask Will with a touch of desperation in his voice. If Hannibal had to guess, he would say the sentiment is genuine, as his beloved was terrified of failing her again.

Have her survive the games, just to break it to her back home that it wasn’t enough for her to be left alone.

"For Abigail," says Freddie, raising her glass to make a toast.

"For Abigail," seconds Alana, followed by Will and Hannibal.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally know a little bit more about what is going on in our Murder Family’s mind! The story also got a little bit more crossover-ish with the Hunger Games. This is more or less the level of interaction we’ll have with the characters of the HG saga, at least in this first part of the story. Or at least that’s the plan.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos, I love y’all :3
> 
> Next chapter we’ll start with the story before Abigail, starting on Will’s first year as a mentor, which happens to be in the Second Quartell Quarrel.
> 
> Until next Saturday :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will’s first year as a mentor went as he had expected: a nightmare.

[Announcement for the 50th Hunger Games. District 10.] 

Will had tried not to think how would his first year as a mentor would go. He truly didn’t want to think about taking tributes of his age to die. It was, of course, something he knew he would eventually get used to, and that was his destiny from now on. The other victor from their district, Robert, had died a few months after Will’s victory. A heart attack, the doctor said. 

That left only Hannibal and him to mentor the tributes for the next years. However, he had forgotten the small detail that year would not be a normal event, but the second Quarter Quarrel. 

"In the first Quarter Quarrel," explained President Snow on television. "As a reminder that the rebels were responsible for The Hunger Games, each district had to vote for their own tributes." 

Will could only imagine how that had panned out. Probably the kids of the Capitol sympathizers had been chosen. Even then, seeing a child you voted die in the Arena must have been worse than the usual guilt. 

"This year, as a reminder that for each Capitol citizen killed, two rebels died, each district will send twice the number of tributes." 

So, Will wasn’t going to take two kids to their almost certain death. He was going to take four. 

The reaping that year was even more tense than usual. Twice the tributes, twice the opportunity of your name coming out of the urn. 

Four kids and no-one was naïve enough to believe their district would have a victor for the third year in a row. 

Standing in the Justice Building, waiting for the tributes to finish saying goodbye to their families, Will admired Hannibal’s strength more than before. A year ago, Hannibal had been standing there, wondering if he would be able to bring Will back, and he didn’t show any weakness, or at least not in public. 

Right now, all Will could do to keep his poker face was cling to Hannibal’s arm and try not to think of all the families that would lose their kid. 

As a small mercy, Will didn’t personally know any of the tributes this year. Hannibal and he decided to split them to make their mentorship easier, and Will got Georgia Madchen, a thirteen-year-old girl daughter of the district’s tailor, and Peter Bernardone, a seventeen-year-old boy in his bones that looked too out of it. 

They didn’t stand a chance, but Will would try anyway. 

Their Opening Ceremony costumes were the average cowboy/cowgirl their district was always stuck with, but by then Will had found a worse problem. They were both to weak-looking, and not in a way that would help them have people underestimate them. At least not to get sponsors. Georgia was a very sweet girl, but she continuously disassociated and forgot where she was or who was she with. Peter barely talked about anything that wasn’t the animals he tended to back home. 

Hannibal’s tributes were two fourteen-year-old kids that looked ready to faint at any moment. For fear, inanition, or sickness, Will wasn’t sure. 

Hannibal took his hand when the announcement for the beginning of the Ceremony was heard and took him to the mentor’s seat box. He had met all the victors in his Victory Tour, at least briefly, so there was no need for introductions besides the standard greeting. They sat next to Mag, a sweet woman in her fifty’s that had won Will over by not mentioning his or Hannibal’s more... iconic moments of their games. 

He didn’t want to think about what he did. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that his father would still be alive if he hadn’t let anger get to his head. 

A few hours later, once he had slipped out of his own room to Hannibal’s, they laid in bed discussing possible strategies. 

"Their best chance is to practice their survival skills. Camouflage, edible plants. They are dead in hand-to-hand combat, the best course of action would be to avoid it," rationalized Hannibal. Will was happy to let him talk, as he knew anything he said would be tainted by the fatalism he felt. 

They were dead, they were all dead. He couldn’t save them, and he could only hope for a quick death for them. He wondered if their families would blame them for not trying harder, or if they knew, just as Will did, that their children didn’t stand a chance. 

Will had seen the Reaping of other districts, the career tributes looked as deadly as ever, and this time they were more. He would be honestly surprised if anyone else won. 

In the morning, they shared the plans with the tributes, and they seemed to more or less accept it. At least they weren’t openly antagonistic, because Will doesn’t know how would they have managed a more conflicting group, especially as they were not older than them. Hannibal was nineteen, and he was only 16. Peter was actually older than him. 

They probably had won some aura of danger during their games, especially the most savage parts of it, but they were still so young. 

He would have to ask Mag if being older than the kids you sent to die was better or worse, as he would need years to find out firsthand. 

Hannibal showed Will the ropes of being a mentor, or at least as much as he knew, taking into account that he had only been a mentor for a year. Some of the older Victors helped them and gave them tips to do their job. Some others kept their distance, all too conscious of the line they had both crossed in their games. 

When the training scores came out, it came as no one's surprise that no one in District 10 got a grade over 5. Georgia got a 4, and Peter a 1. Will had to wonder if Peter had even done something at all, but his mentees didn’t seem kin on sharing whatever happened in their private sessions. 

By that point, Will had given up in the "slipping out" of his room and just went straight to Hannibal’s. He let himself be held by his boyfriend, trying to chase the sleep that evaded him. That had evaded him ever since Hannibal’s games. 

He had once asked Hannibal if he ever had nightmares, and he had told him that yes, he had them, but not about his own games. Will understood the rest. Hannibal’s nightmares were about Will’s games, or about Mischa's death. 

"What is the plan for the interviews?" Asked Will out loud. He already had an idea, it’s not as if any of their mentee’s had given them much to work with, but having Hannibal say things out loud helped him ground him. It gave his chaotic mind some solid ground to work on. 

Hannibal’s fingers started trading through Will’s curls, as they did every time they were in such proximity. Will loved those gentle touches, being the only gentleness he’d had in years, and he knew Hannibal coveted that moment’s just as much. 

"Kind, sympathetic kids. Pity is seldom something you should shot for, but it’s their best chance. Maybe someone will like enough to help them if they need it." It sounded cold, but it was the truth. 

If normally it was hard to gain attention among the sponsors against other 23 tributes, having them look at you among other 47 was almost impossible. 

The interviews are almost unbearably long, and he had already forgotten about the previous district’s tributes when the next one came. District Ten was, in the end, average. No one would be impressed by their shyness and poor abilities with the public, but they didn’t make a fool of themselves, as one of the girls from Three and one of the boys from Eleven had done, so at least there was that. 

For the first time in all his years watching the games, a tribute from 12 caught everyone’s attention. He saw something in him. 

“Potential.” Suggested Hannibal when Will brought it up. Yes, potential. Will would keep an eye on the guy, who was also a year older that him. 

It was weird. This Haymitch boy, Peter, some other tributes of seventeen and eighteen years, they were older than Will, but he felt them way younger. The Games aged everyone in a way that couldn’t be explained, just lived. 

That night, Will gave up every pretend at sleeping. He couldn´t do it. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his mentees death in the most grotesque ways possible. He saw Hannibal death, not coming back to him after his games. Will even saw himself, in his own games. Usually, the memories didn’t disturb him as much, as it was the consequences that came after that tormented him, but tonight the feelings of fear and panic and loneliness in the Arena resurged. 

The next day arrived, and he had barely closed his eyes all night. Hannibal hadn´t slept either, deciding to keep him company, but he looked way better. When Will asked him how he managed, the only response he got was, 

"I need little sleep", it wasn't said in a condescending manner, but it didn't help his mood. 

  
His last meeting with his mentee's could have been a funeral, for how solemn were all of them acting. The wished them luck, remembered them to stay away from the bloodbath, and sent them on their way. 

Peter, however, had one last thing to ask him. 

"When you return home, can you check on the animals, for me? They work all day, they need someone to check on them." So accepting of imminent day, the only thing Will could do was nod. He could have tried to say Peter could go back home to check on them himself, but it felt disrespectful to his wishes. 

Hannibal showed him to the Viewing Center, a room where the mentors could keep an eye on their tributes. At the back of the room were two big monitors that showed the official transmission: what everyone in Panem was watching, but each district also had its table with a monitor that followed each tribute. Usually, there would be two monitors, that year there were four. 

They walked to their table and saw how each monitor had one of the tributes name engraved. Next to them was a fixed phone where the interested sponsors would reach them if they wanted a meeting, or just to donate. 

As the start of the Game came close, Ceasar Flickerman started explaining the Arena. Almost everything was poisonous, so it was good Will and Hannibal made sure their tributes spent time studying the edible plants. They also said the Arena was full of surprises, and that made Will more nervous than he was aware was possible. 

The first surprise were 18 deaths in the bloodbath. Hannibal's mentees died there. The boy had actually tried to get something, a bag maybe, from the Cornucopia, and got stabbed on the neck. The girl was even less lucky, as she did try to run, but was too slow and got caught by one of the careers. She was stabbed 3 times before her screaming stopped. When Hannibal called the families, Will decided that was probably the worst part of being a mentor. 

He didn't understand why was it necessary at all, he doubted the families of the tributes ever separated from the television. 

  
Georgia and Peter got separated, even when Will told them they didn't stand a chance alone. He knew they didn't stand a chance together, either, but at least they wouldn't die alone. 

Being mentor was an experience like nothing Will had lived before. He had watched the games back home, but it was usually with disgust and mild disinterest. When Hannibal was tribute, Will was seldom apart from any television, but even then, the Capitol showed whatever was most interesting at the moment, so there were long stretches of time where he couldn't see him. 

His games simultaneously felt like ages, and just a few hours. The cold night seemed to never end, as did the pain, but sometimes he couldn't remember if the bloodbath had been two days ago or a week. The only measure of time he had was the remaining tributes, and even then, he couldn't place when had they died. The first thing he had asked when he woke up after he won was how long had it been. 

Now in the Viewing center, however, the Games felt like an eternity once more. Every hour felt like days, and there was nothing he could do but watch. The mentors of other districts were busy with sponsors, but no one wanted to sponsor Peter and Georgia. 

Will understood it, of course he did. He had also known since the Reaping they were dead kids walking, but he couldn't help but hate every Capitol citizen just a little bit more. 

On the second day, he had been called to an interview with Ceasar Flickerman, talking about his first year as a mentor and his new experiences in the Capitol. Fortunately for him, his public image was never very friendly, so he just limited himself to respond what was asked. 

"What about your tributes, Will? They don't seem very impressive; do you honestly think one of them can win?" 

Will consider to just answer no, and be done with it. Ceasar would probably find a way to laugh it off and say he was just playing mysterious, but he knew he had to play the part. 

He had lived the consequences of not playing into their game way too many times. 

_"I'm as alone as you are, now" Will had told Hannibal a few days into his new life as a Victor._

_"And we're both alone without each other" was the answer he was given,_

Will forced himself into the present and gave a playful smirk to the public. 

"Well, no one really thought I would win my games, and yet here I am, am I not?" That got a strong laugh from the public, and Will was left alone after that. 

With so many tributes, there was not a dull moment, and that was before the 'surprises' from the Game-makers started. 

In the fourth day, the mountain erupted, and Will had to watch Peter burn alive with other eleven tributes. He had just accidentally killed another tribute, by alerting the careers of her presence and managing to hide his. 

When he called Peter's family, he heard the inconsolable cries, and finished the call as soon as he could. 

Georgia turned out to be more capable than she seemed. She took out two tributes by taking them by surprise, both taller and bigger than her. It was enough so Will got one or two calls showing interest in her, maybe believing she could surprise everyone. 

In the end, Will's fears materialized. She disassociated and forgot where she was for a moment, and most importantly she forgot to keep quiet. It was just a moment, but the career pack had been close enough to hear her. She tried to run, and Will could not take his eyes from the screen. 

She made for an intense chase, but in the end a boy from One threw an ax to her head, and the cannon was heard. 

"Do you want me to make the call?" Offered Hannibal, who had stayed next to him through the days, reminding him to eat, bath, and forcing him to sleep once in a while, promising he would wake him up if something happened. 

Will wasn't sure how the Districts with only one mentor were managing without sleeping. 

"No, I'll do it, it's fine." It was not fine, by any means, but he forced himself to pick up the phone anyway, and dial to the Justice Building, where Georgia's family had already been brought to so he could talk with them. 

"I'm sorry" was all he could say, besides the official announcement that their daughter had died in the Arena. This time it was them who hanged upon him. Fine by him. 

For the rest of the games Will retreated to the District apartment in the training center, except for another obligatory interview. At least that time Hannibal was also there, so Will gladly deflected all questions to him and said the bare minimum. 

After that, he was only forced to attend to the interview of the Victor. He had seen him win, using the force field as a weapon. It was brilliant, really, he had lived to the potential he and Hannibal had seen in him. However, they had both immediately known the Game-makers wouldn't have liked that little display. The force field was not part of the games, he wasn't supposed to use it. 

He saw Haymitch Abernathy manage the interview with all the dignity you could ask of someone who had just been through the hell he had been, but he also looked cautious, as if he didn't feel quite safe yet. Will wondered if he had already received a visit from President Snow, or maybe if his mentor had and he had told Haymitch the fine line he was dancing on. 

Hannibal was delighted, with all the public attention in the Quarrel, and now this new problematic Victor, him and Will were no longer in the spotlight. The Capitol wouldn't forget about them, and the authorities wouldn't forget about what they had done, but it was becoming the past, and the past was to be left behind. 

Still, Will had the mind to ask Haymitch for his family when he met him in his Victor's Tour. 

A sad chuckle got out of him. 

"They died in an accident." He was too drunk to properly lower his voice, and Will hoped he got himself together before the next accident was his. 

He let himself share his grieve for a moment. 

"Mine too." He offered with a knowing look. That seemed to sober Haymitch immediately, he clearly hadn't considered he wasn't the only one. 

Will turned around and didn't speak to him again until the next games, he didn't want to look too friendly with the new wayward Victor. 

That would be six months later, however. 

When Will came back home from his first year as a mentor, he left himself be fed by Hannibal and slept for almost a week. 

After that, he went to the farmhouse where Peter had told him he worked to check on the animals. They apparently were managing without the kid, but still need someone to wash the dogs occasionally: it did no good if they got infections and stopped doing their job on hearing the livestock properly. 

Will offered to do it for free. It was the most interaction he had had with other people of the district since his own games, but no one would refuse free work. So, Will took up the job of washing the dogs, and eventually also training them. He was happy doing it by himself, he loved the dogs and the manual and repetitive work. 

He never considered asking for help, until 22 years later, when he started dropping comments that the girl from the workshop would be giving him a hand with the dogs, as he had clumsily sprained his wrist. No one questioned it, and no one checked either, which was good, for the girl was nowhere to be seen. 

Not yet, anyway, but it would give Abigail a solid alibi when the moment came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the delay, I know I was supposed to update yesterday, and I planned to do it, as the chapter was already written, but I had a 4-hour exam in the morning, and then I spent the next eleven hours working on my final assignment for another class, and I had no time to update. I promise next week the chapter will be on time.
> 
> So, I hope you liked the chapter! I think you all can guess which "line" Hannibal and Will crossed on their games, but we’ll get to that in the future. For the moment, the next chapter will be Abigail’s training and preparation for the games!
> 
> Thank you for all your comments they make me unbelievable happy <<33 See you next week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail knew what she needed to look out for in her training, even if the clues she found weren't very telling.

[73rd Hunger Games. Training Center.] 

Abigail woke up for her first day of training. There was not much she could actually learn, as Will and Hannibal had been as thorough with her training for the last year as they could, but there were a few details. Hannibal told her to pay attention to the edible plant sections, as sometimes they had some clue of what kind of Arena would they be thrown into. 

Mostly, she had to make sure not to bring attention to herself, nor Nicholas, if they were going to stay together. She had a feeling he would try his hand at broaching other alliances today, but she was also fairly sure he would come back empty-handed. He had no impressive skills, nor had he made an impression in the public yet. He was ambitious and knew only a strong alliance would be worth losing the favor of his mentor, he wouldn't find what he wanted. By tomorrow, he would go back to Abigail. 

She would only accept him if he hadn't screwed up and personally offended anyone enough to make him a target, of course. No ally was better than being targeted by someone, after all, but she would deal with that the next day. 

She went to the table where they had dinner the previous night and was happy to see Will and Hannibal already there. Freddie was also there, but Nicholas wasn't yet, so she took the opportunity to greet the men with a hug as usual, before taking her seat and start eating. This morning, she emphasized fruit, as there was more variety than she had ever seen. 

She gave a glance at Freddie and arched her brow in question, to which Hannibal nodded. Good, so everything was going according to plan then. 

When Nicholas finally joined them for breakfast, Hannibal gave them the instructions for the day. 

"Keep to the survival area, nothing will come out of knowing how to fight if you are too starved to stand up. Tomorrow you can move around some weapons if you chose, although I don't think it will be of much help, as your repertoire will be limited to whatever your victims have with them." 

"So we aren't trying for the Cornucopia at the beginning?" asked Nicholas, which was obviously a stupid question. Hannibal didn't express anything that could show annoyance at the question, but Will did give a humorless laugh at it. 

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you won't. The Cornucopia is career territory. If you go, you may as well slit your own throat and save the careers the trouble of doing it themselves." Will's disapproving tone was enough to get a chuckle out of her and Freddie. 

Nicholas' face turned red, although Abigail wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger, he surely couldn't like being humiliated like that. He deserved it, though, even back in the district everyone knew that the bloodbath was to be avoided by everyone who wasn't ready to have hand-on-hand combat with a career. 

After breakfast, Freddie took them to the basement of the building, where the rest of the tributes were already waiting. 

Nicholas immediately walked away, but Abigail stayed behind, feeling Freddie wanted to tell her something. 

"Are you sure you know what you are doing? I can talk with Alana; we can change your image to the public to something more... desirable. There is no guarantee that the path Hannibal and Will put you in will get you enough help." 

It was a nice sentiment, trying to help her, but Freddie was ready to get her out of the Games and condemn her to another hell altogether. Being the Capitol's new favorite toy. 

She had been told what happened to those Victors, and she preferred to die in the Arena if that kind of future was the only one that would keep her safe from the backlash of the Capitol. No, Hannibal and Will were right, being forgettable was the best for her. 

"I'm sure, Freddie, but thank you." She gave her escort a sincere smile and went to the rest of the tributes. They were given instructions on where each section of the training center was and were warned that fights between tributes were forbidden under any circumstance. 

Just as she thought, Nicholas ignores their mentors' instructions and went straight to the weapons, clearly trying to engage in conversation with other tributes. At least he didn't try to talk to any career, so he did have some self-preservation. 

Abigail just went to the edible's plants section and started analyzing. Most of all the plants the instructor was showing her, she already knew, but she could see a pattern. Mosses, creepers, and some shrubbery. Probably not a forest, nor a jungle, but also not a dessert. That left her with very little ideas about what was she about to confront. 

She decided to spend the rest of her morning in the first-aid section. Hannibal was a very good teacher, but she wanted to prove how much could she remember by herself. She realized pleasantly that she could remember quite a lot. 

She was deciding where to go after lunch when one particular station caught her eye. A climbing wall. She tried to remember if Will and Hannibal had mentioned it when they described the training center to her, but her search came up empty. Was it just a new regular section? Or did they put it for a specific reason? 

The plants. A climbing wall. She had no idea what to make of those pieces of the puzzle. 

She practiced climbing for the rest of her day. She had done a little training to climb trees back at Ten, but nothing as tall as this wall, which was at least 15 meters. Only other small and young tributes were there, as they probably were betting on a “flight” response to any trouble.   
Abigail didn't care if she looked weak for going there, she needed to be prepared to climb if she needed it. 

By the end of the day, she went to the elevator just in time to catch Nicholas. Once the doors were closed, she decided to ask. 

"So, should we tell Will and Hannibal we are going our separated ways in the Arena? Or no one else caught your attention as a potential ally?" She tried not to sound too antagonistic, and so her choice of words, even though they both knew it was Nicholas who didn't manage to catch anyone's eye. 

He took the wording as a sign of good faith, and so didn't try to salvage his pride by keeping his distance. 

"If it's alright with you, I think we can be a good team." Abigail knew when someone was trying to pacify her. Stupid boy thought that would be enough to pacify her if she had been indeed offended. To his luck, she wasn't, and so she accepted with grace. 

The rest of the way back to their place was in silence, Abigail trying to decide whether she would tell Hannibal and Will what happened today, or just go with whatever Nicholas would tell them. Probably the second one, as she was sure they already knew. It was hard to take them by surprise, and in fact, they only seemed to ever be taken by surprise by each other. 

Maybe she would have a chance to surprise them in the Arena, although she wouldn't be able to see it. A pity. 

It was not yet dinner time, so Freddie decided to take them aside to 'know them better'. Apparently, their mentors were outside doing their job, although Abigail was a little bit skeptical about how much could they do before the training scores. She let it go, trusting them to know what they were doing, and brought her attention back to Freddie. 

Her motives to want to 'know them better', according to her at least, was that it was easier to know what image to sell when she knew better what to expect of them. She knew what to expect of Abigail, or at least she knew what Abigail wanted everyone else to expect of her, so her objective was probably Nicholas. Or get a little bit more gossip, she looked like someone who would enjoy more gossip. 

In the end, they spend two amicable hours chatting, but mainly it was just her and Freddie. As much as they tried to bring Nicholas into the conversation, he kept giving them short remarks. He kept looking at Abigail with confusion and resentment, so she prepared herself for a conversation she didn't want to have later. 

Later, because first, it was dinner time. 

Only Will, however, was at the table. 

"Where's your best half?" Asked him Freddie. 

"He was intercepted to 'do a little bit of reminiscing' of his training week with a few other Victors for television, apparently one day since the Opening Ceremony, and still two to go for the scores, and they already got bored." He explained bitterly. 

"They didn't want you?" Abigail inquired. 

"They rarely do, I ruin the illusion of everyone having fun." He couldn't stop a smile from creeping on his face, and Abigail responded with a conspiring smile. Everyone had the exact image of Will he wanted them to have, perfectly tailored to have the least public presence possible. "But that's enough about us, tell me how it went today?" 

"We did as you said," started Nicholas. "keep ourselves to the survival section." 

Will fixed him a glance that clearly meant he didn't believe him but didn't confront him about the lie. He then turned to Abigail, with an expectant gaze. 

"Anything more useful you can add?" 

Abigail then explained her reasoning in the edible plants part, and Will agreed their environment wouldn't be one of the classical forest/jungle Arenas. He didn't have many ideas about what could it be, but he promised to think about it and let her continue. She told him about the climbing wall. 

“You're right, that one is new. Maybe a mountainous landscape, then, but I can't tell for sure.” He had a face Abigail recognized as frustrated, the answer somewhere in front of him and he was unable to find it. “Good observation, though. Now, tell me about the other tributes.” 

Abigail then started to enlist where each tribute was, and giving her input on their abilities, or at least the ones she could observe from afar. From the poorest districts, they mostly kept to themselves, although the girl from Nine, Clarice, if Abigail remembered correctly, looked ready for combat, as she was at least Nicholas height, and had at least double muscular mass. 

The careers stayed in the armament all day, trusting they would get all kinds of supplies from the Cornucopia and wouldn't need the survival abilities, just the fighting ones. 

“So, no one caught your eye as over-average?" Will confirmed, and Abigail nodded. "That's good. Most of the usual sponsors haven't made their mind yet, there was not much to go on with the Ceremony, so they are waiting for the interviews. The careers will be favorites as always, but without an outstanding tribute, it will be easier to pull them to other districts. If you'd had a Finnick Odair this year, sponsors would be a lost battle." 

He smiled approvingly at Abigail and patted her head in that awkward way of his. Abigail felt it was already an inside joke of them, although it could just be a Will thing. Freddie congratulated her in her sharp eye, Nicholas looked about to scream at her. 

"A sharp eye and sharp mind are weapons as much as brute strength, and most winners have both. No one wins the Games on accident." Freddie seemed to think it a little, and then corrected it. "Almost no one, Annie Cresta could be the exception." 

Will looked ready to fight Freddie on that one, but Hannibal chose that moment to arrive, and could, fortunately, distract their attention with the recounting of his 'interception', as named by Will. Or maybe unfortunately, Abigail would've had fun watching them fight. 

Eventually, Nicholas and she were dismissed, after Hannibal remind them of the importance of a good night's sleep, while they could still have it. 

When they were mostly out of earshot, she turned to her district partner. 

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you? Or are you just going to keep glaring at me as if I just kicked a dog?" 

"What's wrong with _me_? You're acting like this is all a fucking game, instead of a death sentence. Laughing with Freddie Lounds, acting as if studying whatever the hell is everyone doing in training is going to help you. I don't know if you deluded yourself that just because your daddies are victors you will be too, but they can't protect you in the Arena, you are as dead as the rest of us but one." 

Abigail had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it wouldn't help. 

"This _is_ a game, just a deadly one, you're the one who deluded yourself into thinking otherwise. If you want to lie down and accept your death, be my guest, but I won't." She dropped the happy act and willed him to understand how serious she was. "I'm giving Will information he can use to adapt the strategy to the one that gives me the best chance, I'm laughing with Freddie, so she then goes and tells the whole Capitol how lovely I am, so they want to sponsor me. Once I'm inside the Arena, I will protect myself, but if you think that the Games start at the bloodbath, you are just wrong." 

She held his gaze, daring him to say something else. He didn't. 

The next day started pretty much the same, but Abigail noticed Nicholas was more agreeable to join the conversation, and she almost had to laugh. A little too late for that, but at least he would be less troublesome to prepare for the interview, Hannibal would have to thank her for that. 

Everyone seemed to notice his change in attitude, but no one commented on it. Maybe they had heard them, they hadn't kept their voices quiet after all, and none of the adults were above eavesdropping. 

"What's the plan for today?" Asked Abigail. 

"Same as yesterday. Learn to make a shelter or start a fire. Nicholas, I know you went yesterday to the deadliest weapons anyway, but if you haven't learned anything yet, you could pick knife throwing. Abigail, you may try with the bow; I don't think you will learn much on one day, but even having an idea of how to pick it could be useful." Nicholas had the decency of looking ashamed and didn't question why wasn't Abigail throwing knives. 

It was better for all of them, it wasn't as if they could tell him the truth, that she had already trained for a year, it was illegal after all, even if in the Career districts did it. And it would raise the question of why, which was a prohibited topic. 

So they went down to the Training Center and did their things. The survival part, learning some knots, to light a fire, to make a shelter, they did it together. 

When the lunch hour came, Abigail decided to look to see if more alliances were being made. The career districts, obviously, were sitting together, laughing and being very loud, an intimidation technique. Everyone else was in silence with their district partner, which didn't mean they would go as a team in the arena, only that they hadn't talked to anyone else. 

So, no previous alliances, besides the obvious. Then she would have to wait and see what would happen in the Arena. 

For the rest of the day, Nicholas tried some spears, but he kept failing and eventually moved to the knives. He had decent strength, but zero aim. Abigail tried with the bow, one weapon she had never used, so she didn't have to pretend when asking the assigned expert the basics. When the training ended, she hadn't managed to shoot to the head, but she was confident she could shoot and hit the person if needed, which would be enough to at least run away. 

She would prefer a knife, if she could choose, she had gotten very familiar with their weight and the aerodynamic. It was for the better, it was easier to get a knife than a bow, as there were years they didn't have those at all. 

Hannibal appreciated the finer things life had to offer, and those were mostly things you could only find in the Capitol. 

Those, however, did not include the Capitol citizens. 

The extravagant fashion, he could ignore, even sometimes appreciate, but most everyone was unspeakably rude. He loved teasing Will with how much he let himself be winded up by Ms. Lounds, but Hannibal could confidently say she was by far one of the most agreeable people in the Capitol. 

Most of the parties and reunions the Victors were forced to go to before the games started, and after their tributes died, were composed of some of the vainest, most ignorant and wasteful people there was. Wasteful, for the Victors, especially the ones from the poorer districts, was the worst. 

Even if they had now all the food they could eat, and more commodities than most people in Panem would ever know, they remembered the hunger. They remembered the cold. When Hannibal had realized in his Victor's Tour that these people made themselves puke with the intention of keep eating, he wished he could have been in the Arena with them instead and kill them all. They didn't deserve the food, and he would have gladly cooked them instead and serve them to the starving kids in the Districts as he had been. 

Like Mischa had been. 

They were forced to socialize, anyway. To smile, and laugh, and pretend these same people hadn't bet against most of them in their games. Some had it worse, like Finnick and Cashmere. Johanna paid dearly refusing to enter that category. 

Hannibal sometimes thought that Will definitely would have ended up like them, he had the beauty, and when he bothered to shave, he looked way younger. Of course, they hadn't thought of that back then, but in hindsight, Will had been lucky. His moody attitude was not exactly seductive, and he had looked unstable enough in the games that most citizens preferred not to be alone in a room with him. It may have also helped that he hadn't let them remove the scar on his cheek, a small gift Bedelia had left him before Will killed her. 

Hannibal had wanted Will to keep it as a trophy of his victory, and unknowingly had helped him keep the 'unstable' aura that kept him from the attention of the Capitol citizens that paid to have the better-looking victors on their beds. The fact that they had been in a public relationship since Hannibal's Victor Tour had also helped. If it wasn't the case, Hannibal wasn't sure he would have been able to resist the urge to kill all that dared touch Will. 

For Abigail, however, they knew all of this. They would carefully craft a persona interesting enough to sponsor, not desirable enough for anything else. Kind, cheerful, as more aggressive mannerisms tended to let people's imagination go wild. A family girl, just wanting to make her fathers, who happen to be two of the most violent Victors, proud, enough to put her in a more childish light. They had helped her with that, but there was still a key part she would need to craft herself. 

Unstable. Not too much, and not too early, as it may scare off sponsors, but enough so she created an idea she couldn't be left alone, couldn't be thrown around. A delicate teacup that needed to be put aside, and only taken out for important occasions. 

She would have to find the moment, the chance. 

She was intelligent, resourceful, and had a talent for manipulation, Hannibal trusted she could do it. 

"How was the training today, Abigail?" He asked when dinner time came. 

She launched to give a detailed explanation of everything she had practiced, and her observations at the lack of pre-made alliances. Hannibal smiled proudly and looked at Will, who had a similar expression dedicated to their daughter. 

They trusted she would be able to pull it off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *15 meters are like 49 feet, for y'all that use that stuff.
> 
> Wuuuuuu on time this week :3  
> Yes, in this AU it was Bedelia the one who gave Will the scar. Dolarhyde is, like, *their* kill, so it felt wrong to put him in the arena with just one of them. Anyway, the scar in his forehead in canon is lowkey her fault, as she kinda put the idea of eating Will=forgiving Will in Hannibal's head, so she deserved to actually make this one.
> 
> Next week, Hannibal's training week! I hope you are as excited as me :D
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, I treasure each one in my heart <3 Till next Saturday!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty-five years before Abigail had her training week, Hannibal had his, and Will found himself back at District 10, only able to watch.

[48th Hunger Games. Training Center.] 

"So, what do you want to do first?" Asked him Beverly. Hannibal looked around the Training center and decided they should do weapons first. In the best-case scenario, Beverly could learn some tricks that would be helpful for both, worst-case scenario, he could probably show off a little. 

Their mentor, Robert, told them not to do it, but Hannibal thought it could be useful. Maybe he could trick some stronger tribute into thinking they could be allies, it would make them easier to kill. His original plan was not to have allies at all, but he knew he couldn't just leave Beverly behind. 

He hadn't talked much with her before the reaping, but she was Will's best friend. Of course, he had every intention to win the games and go back to Will, but he had promised himself when Will came to wish him good luck in the Justice Building, crying and feeling terrible for wanting Hannibal to win when Beverly was also a tribute, that he would try to make sure the girl had a quick death. The only way to make good on that promise would be keeping her close and killing her himself. 

She was intelligent and quick, so she could be a useful ally for the beginning. If in the meantime she died by someone else's hand, at least his dear Will wouldn't feel so guilty for wanting him to win. If he had to kill her, he would make it quick. 

In the weapons, Beverly surprised even him by being a quick learner and having a very good aim. By the end of the day, most of her arrows and knives hit the body. He had practiced with the knives and axes, excelling with both, with almost all his hits somewhere vital. 

He also tried the body combat station, obviously with an instructor, as fighting among tributes was extremely prohibited, and learned a few techniques that could become useful. 

It also served his secondary purpose, as Beverly informed him that the male tribute from One, Anthony Dimmond, hadn't taken his eyes off him. A Career Tribute, interesting. That would probably come in handy. He also noticed that the guy had some resemblance to his Will. 

If he had the chance, he would try to make a romantic gesture to Will of his death. 

When Robert asked why they did the exact thing he told them not to, they both shrugged it off. 

"Not having an initial target on our backs will only take us so far if we don't know how to properly hold a knife." He said as a half-hearted explanation. Their mentor had a point, of course, especially with Beverly, as a fourteen-year-old-girl like her, that had spent her life without two proper meals in the same week hardly would win by fighting. 

Even Hannibal, as a seventeen-year-old, was at disadvantage for the severe malnutrition he had suffered most of his life. Most of the districts were like that, however, so he didn't think that playing the low profile would help them unless they actually had something to hide. 

Survival skills were also important, he knew, so the next day they focused on that. His sensitive sense of smell proved useful when it came to identifying different plants, and Beverly showed great ability making rope traps. 

They were trying to start a fire when Beverly shoved him slightly to get his attention. She signed with her head in direction of the ax-throwing range. The female tribute from Seven, Miriam Lass if he remembered correctly, had hit straight to the heart five consecutive times. Her building wasn't impressive, but she was deadly all the same. It would be best to take her by surprise, or even in body combat. If she managed to get an ax, and for the looks the Game-makers were giving her, they would make sure there was an ax in the Cornucopia, then she would have a big advantage if she saw one from afar. 

Dinner is the same, Robert grilled them for the details of the day, where they each took turns answering his questioning before escaping to sleep. Sleep, however, wasn't coming easy to either of them, so they found themselves on the balcony, watching the Capitol being as alive as always, even in the middle of the night. 

"What do you think they are doing back at home?" Beverly asked in an attempt to start a conversation. Hannibal found her pleasant company, enough to indulge in a little joke. 

"If I had to guess, I would say sleeping." That got a laugh out of her. It wasn't difficult to make her laugh, she was very friendly and non-judgmental, that's probably why she was Will best, and pretty much only, friend. Besides himself, of course, although he liked to think their relationship was much more than that. 

"Well, yeah, obviously, it's the middle of the night. I mean, like, in the daytime." She cleared up. 

"The same we did in past years, go on with their lives. Go to the public televisions when it's time for mandatory viewing, eat whatever they have, and go to sleep hungry and tired." 

"It's hard to imagine it, it all seems like a lifetime ago." He could agree with that. Four days ago was the reaping, and in three days they would be getting ready to enter de Arena. Yet, all events looked isolated from each other, and the transition between each was blurry at best. "Do you remember what the friends of the tributes did? Or the families?" 

Beverly was, if he remembered correctly, the oldest of four siblings, all males except for her. A big family back home and at least two other close friends apart from Will, that he remembered seeing her hang out. Compared to Hannibal, who only had Will, she had many more people waiting for her. 

More people would be grieving when she didn't make it back. 

"I honestly don't remember. I didn't know any personally, so I wasn't paying close attention." It was the truth. He knew most of them by face, having crossed paths on multiple occasions, but not enough to know who they were close with. 

"What do you think Will is going to do?" The only person they had in common. Hannibal wondered what he had told her when he said goodbye. 

"I'm delighted to say I have no idea. It's been a few years since I met him already, and he always finds a way to surprise me. I like to think he will be paying close attention to the games. Cheering for us." For me, he wanted to say, but it would be rude. By the look Beverly gave him, she heard it loud and clear anyway. 

"Yes, you're probably right about that." 

The conversation died there, and each of them eventually went back to their rooms to sleep. 

The next day they were called one by one to perform their best abilities to the Game-makers, so they would later give the score. As they were District 10, they had time before their turn, but there wasn't much to do besides watch other tributes, and even that got boring quickly, having into account that no one was doing anything of interest. 

They had discussed earlier what were they doing. Beverly decided on a low-score approach and was going to perform her abilities with making rope-traps, and maybe throw a few knives. Hannibal wanted to go all out. 

Beverly went first, and after her designated time, it was his turn. 

He went straight for the weapons. Knives and axes, it wouldn't be something never seen before, but probably good enough to get an eight or nine. 

On his way to the elevator, he saw the tribute from One, Anthony Dimmond, waiting for him. He probably hid so he could catch him on his way out. 

The guy was probably his age, and shorter in height, but he had more musculature: advantages from the richest districts. He probably had trained all his life for this chance. 

"Hannibal, it's a pleasure, I'm Anthony. I've seen you train. Very promising. I was thinking you may be interested in entering the career alliance." Straight to the point, lying all his cards on the table at once. 

"Big alliances are not my thing." He framed it as a rejection but chose the words carefully so the other could find an offer if he was inclined to. As it seemed, he was. 

"So, if just you and I came across each other..." 

"Maybe then, yes. Goodbye, Anthony." 

Hannibal made his way back to the District apartment. He went straight to his room, guessing they probably wouldn't be called until the moment they announced the scores. He would go out earlier to ask Beverly how she did, but that could still wait. 

He sat on the bed, softer and comfier than anything he had ever slept in back in Ten. He closed his eyes and retreated to the rooms in his mind, that he had carefully built over the years so he could ignore reality when he couldn't be bothered with it. He had two rooms he preferred when he wanted comfort: the first one, the house where he had lived with his parents before they had died in a flu epidemic when he was a child. They weren't there, in part because Hannibal couldn't remember very well their faces or their complexions, but mostly because they didn't bring any sense of comfort. 

Who did appear there, was his little sister Mischa. She looked a little over six years, so maybe a year younger than she was when she died. Were she alive, she wouldn't remember that house at all, but Hannibal preferred to have her there, instead of in the orphanage that never felt like anything more than prison and a perpetual reminder of their parents' deaths. 

The other room was a small cabin in the outskirts of the district, abandoned and with plants growing in the walls. He had found it by accident while trying to get rid of the evidence of the first one of the Peacekeepers that had murdered Mischa that he killed. It was far away enough from everything else that he had assumed no one would go there, but he had been wrong. It was the only mistake in his life, however, that he hadn't regret. There, he met the only soul that would truly complement and understand his own, he had met Will, and so he imagined Will there, laughing and complaining and being as beautiful as he was when he wasn't shying away from the world. 

That was where Hannibal went that day, longing for the company from his dearest friend. Unconsciously, he went back to the same question Beverly had asked him the night before, what was Will doing? He would have to watch the announcement of the scores, as it was mandatory viewing, he hoped Will would be proud of him when he saw his score. 

He reached the night table, where laid a leather bracelet. It usually was on Will's wrist, but he had given it to Hannibal when they said goodbye at the Justice Building. 

Hannibal's stylist had taken it to be approved as a district token, and they found it inoffensive enough to allow it. It was a relief, as he wouldn't want to leave it behind. He didn't want Will there, as that would mean that Hannibal would have to die to allow Will to survive, but he did miss him. Loneliness wasn't an emotion he had indulged in the past, not even after his sister's death, but he now felt Will's absence as a jab in his heart. 

He hoped Will felt the same, a pain that mirrored Hannibal's own. It would be okay because he would come back to Will and they would both feel complete again but remembering how elementary wrong everything had felt in their separation. 

They would have to wait a few years to get married, until Will turned eighteen, but once they did, he would move in with Hannibal to the Victor's Village, and they would never go hungry again. There would be no more separation. The image of that future brought him all the comfort he needed. He would go back to Will, that was all that mattered. 

When he finally went out to the living room, Beverly was already there with Robert and their escort, Mrs. Komaeda. The conversation he planned on having with Beverly turned out to be unnecessary, as she communicated with a nod of her head, that he returned in kin, that she had felt satisfied with her performance. It was time to see if the Game-makers agreed. 

They sat around the television and waited for the hymn to end before Cesar's Flickerman smile appeared on the screen. Anthony Dimmond had an eight, and the rest of the careers oscillated between that and a ten, so no surprises then. The girl from seven that had caught Beverly's eye on training, Miriam Lass, got an impressive ten. 

When the time for their district came, Hannibal's photo came on screen with a nine bellow. A career score, very good. Robert and Beverly congratulated him before her photo came on screen with a six under it. Considering she was one of the young tributes, it was definitely high. 

Robert looked very pleased with the results, which Hannibal found quite egocentric, but decided against calling out the fact that he had done nothing for them to earn their scores. It would do well to keep him happy. 

The scores were celebrated with a little bit of wine to accompany the extravagant dinner. 

"Tomorrow," instructed them Robert before letting them go to their rooms to sleep, "You will work in the morning with Mrs. Komaeda for presentation, to make sure you will know how not to make a fool of yourselves in front of Panem in your interviews. In the afternoon, you will work with me for content, we'll land the angle of your approach to the public, understood?" 

"Understood." Said both tributes at the same time. 

They stood up and walked to their rooms, but Beverly stopped him before they ways departed. 

"I know one of the careers waited for you after your private session with the Game-makers." She explained with her no-bullshit voice. "Are you planning to go into an alliance with them?" 

Hannibal was delighted at her perceptiveness, and how her strong survival instinct pushed her to address the problem now, when she could still find some other ally, or at least prepare herself to be alone in the arena. Once again, Hannibal was almost regretful that he would most probably find himself in the position of having to kill her. For a moment, he considered saying yes, just to have her go her separate way and meet her demise at another hand, but he knew how brutal the killings in the Arena could get and decided to preserve his promise to Will to procure her a quick death first. Even if Will wasn't aware of the promise. 

"Not at all, but I'm hopeful he will be egocentric enough to think otherwise. He will abandon the career pack to go look for me alone, and we'll be able to take him down easily, and take whatever he has with him." He assured her. It was not a lie, as that was exactly what he expected after his interactions with Anthony, 

Beverly must have felt the honesty in his words because she smiled at him and wished him goodnight. 

As indicated, the next morning was spent with Ms. Komaeda, who taught them how to properly sit, talk and breath. Hannibal founded out he liked it; it was like putting on a costume for everyone to see. 

Beverly was decidedly less enthusiastic, but Hannibal thought the high-heels lesson was to blame for that, he wouldn't like to be in her, literal, shoes. It looked quite uncomfortable and difficult. Her good balance dominated in the end, and by midday they were all certain she would be able to walk through the stage without major problems. 

Still, when Ms. Komaeda told her the heels for her interview would be much shorter, Hannibal could see Beverly making an effort not to cry of relief. 

After an extraordinaire meal, Robert took over for their evening lessons. He had explained to them that some tributes preferred to have by themselves the discussion for their public strategy, but they had been clear that they would be allies in the arena, so any public personas they were to craft would better complement each other, so they could be likable as a team too. 

“We have a lot to work with, actually" commented Robert. While Hannibal couldn't claim to know the victor well, he could feel the candor of his words. “Both of you had higher scores than expected, and I trust you know better than to be antagonistic to the Capitol's citizens.” 

Hannibal immediately knew what his mentor was talking about. Some tributes would be so open in their disgust and hate for the Capitol, they usually didn't get a single loaf of bread from sponsors. The audience liked an attitude, but not one aggressive towards them. 

A lame approach to the situation, Hannibal thought. He could understand the anger and disgust against everyone that celebrated this child-slaughter, but it was borderline suicidal to gain a bad reputation among possible sponsors. 

Beverly was naturally a funny and compelling person. Of course, she was usually also blunt in her honesty, which wouldn't be good when her truth was so rightfully despiteful of the public. To Robert and Hannibal's delight, she turned out to also be very good at concealing her feelings and projecting only the most appealing side of her personality. 

For Hannibal, the approach would be a smooth, polite young man. Robert and Ms. Komaeda agreed that he was charming in an attractive, if not seducing, way. It was a charm not common among the districts, not even the richer ones, so it could be easily exploited. That, plus the career-like score Hannibal had gotten in the training would create the perfect intrigue about him. It was a promising start for getting sponsors. 

“If I know Ceasar Flickerman, I know he will ask if you have anyone back home, do you?” Asked him Robert. Beverly was still too young to cause that kind of intrigue, but he wasn't, and his personality would make the question the logical step to take. 

Hannibal founded himself conflicted. On one hand, the idea of denying Will felt like the worst kind of blasphemy, it would be denying the only thing Hannibal deemed sacred. On the other hand, the idea of sharing Will with the Capitol was nauseating; nobody there deserved to even have the name cross their lips. 

What a conflict, indeed. 

“If we get to the final eight, they'll found out anyway,” Beverly said, and Hannibal wondered if it was that clear what he was thinking, or if she just felt the same about the Capitol touching the people important to her. “They'll go to the district to interview everyone about us. I have a family, and other friends, but you only have Will. If you say it in the interview, at least you're giving him time to prepare for the inevitable ambush.” 

It stung a little, but Hannibal had to accept she was right. His family was dead, and while he was on good terms with all his classmates and to a lesser degree the rest of the orphans, everyone who knew him would know he only truly considered Will his friend. If that was all, it would be possible, even if not necessarily easy, to play it off. 

The problem was everyone also knew their relationship wasn't exactly restricted to friends. Hannibal had never downplayed his devotion to Will, nor the fact that he intended for them to have a future together. Will, while more discrete in his affections, had never left any place for doubt that he returned the feelings. 

Their status as friends was more about the slightly awkward age gap between them than any reticence about their feelings. Hannibal didn't mind waiting, as he knew three years would be nothing when they were older, and he was ready to wait an eternity for Will. 

It wasn't an unusual arrangement back in the district, Hannibal could name many couples that had a similar one in their teens, so everyone understood it. 

That meant someone would mention it, and he doubted the Capitol's citizens were as prudish as the districts with the relationships. 

Beverly was right, the best Hannibal could do was give Will time to prepare himself for the inevitable. He turned to Robert and said so. 

“Fine,” accepted Robert. He clearly wasn't convinced that the truth was the best approach, as single victors tended to have a bigger fan base in the Capitol, but as someone from district 10, he reluctantly agreed that it would be hoping for too much that no one explained the kind of friendship Hannibal and Will shared, and that far in the games it wouldn't make him any favors to be found out as a liar. 

The next evening, back on District 10, Will found himself between Beverly's brothers, parents, and her friends Jimmy and Brian. It was custom in the district for the tributes' closest friends and family to sit together in Central Square, where the biggest public television for mandatory viewing was. 

It was torture. Everyone else wanted Beverly to come back, they all were there for her, and it wasn't as if Will didn't want her to come back, but the price for her to come back alive was one Will wouldn't survive. 

Beverly's family knew that, but they also knew that if it was anybody else, Will would still be sitting there, for Beverly this time. It wasn't “anybody else”, however, it was Hannibal, so nobody really knew how to act with Will. 

He almost wished he had accepted his father's offer to go with him, but he probably would also prefer Beverly to come back, even if he wouldn't say so in solidarity with Will. He also offered Will they could go watch on other public television, as it wasn't a rule that he had to be in Central Square, but Will couldn't stand the idea that no one would be there for Hannibal. 

Beverly would tell him not to let himself be bullied out of that table, in fact, she had more or less done it when they said goodbye in the Justice Building. 

_Will took her turn hugging Beverly after Jimmy and Brian had done so. They kept telling her how she had to come back, and how she was badass enough to do it. Will kept quiet, unable to vocalize words that condemned Hannibal. Beverly didn't pressure him and gave him instead an understanding smile._

_It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to be sent to die just like the livestock that was raised there, and she didn't deserve to have her best friend hoping for someone else's victory just because she happened to be reaped next to the only person Will would choose over her. She deserves so much more than any of this shit._

_She was being strong for them, as she had been for her brother's that had gone before them. Her big-sister-instincts ready to kick in to keep her leveled._

_When the peacekeepers came to escort them out, and in Will's case taking him to Hannibal, Beverly took him by the wrist and told him with her no-bullshit voice._

_“Don't let yourself be bullied out of supporting your boyfriend, understood Graham? I'm a big girl, I can take it, and he doesn't have anyone else.” Will could only nod before being forced out of the room and broke down the moment he was in Hannibal's arms._

In case it was the last thing Beverly asked of him, he would stand his ground. She didn’t blame him, so he wouldn't feel guilty. At least he would try not to. 

As they were from District Ten, Beverly and Hannibal would be the twentieth and twenty-first interviews respectively. Will wanted to just tune out everything before them, but he forced himself to pay attention and try to pick out the real threats. 

Not like he could do anything with the information, but it would give him something to do. 

From District 2, Tobias Budge had the whole aura of a psycho. He managed to make Ceasar Flickerman look uncomfortable. One of those careers that enjoyed a tad too much the idea of the games. From District 4, Matthew Brown caught Will's attention. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but he felt like a good contender, and he had way more charm than Budge, which would be good to get himself sponsors. 

District 7, Miriam Lass. Ever since she got a 10 as her training score, she had entered Will's attention. From the outside districts, such a thing was extremely rare. She and Hannibal had scores to get him in the immediate notice of the Capitol. 

Will had a moment to ask himself if that was truly a good thing. It could be that he was just being paranoid. It could just be a big coincidence, but Will felt that Hannibal's reaping had been a bit too convenient. 

No one had explicitly said Hannibal was a suspect in the disappearance of the peacekeepers. His alibis were impeccable, as were the disposal of the bodies, but it would be too naïve to believe no one had noticed that those same peacekeepers were rumored to have been involved in Mischa Lecter's disappearing. 

Then the moment ended. When it was finally Beverly's interview, Will had to put all of him not to break down crying. He wasn't sure where those intense feelings came from, but he suspected it was that Beverly's mom did start crying, and her distress was a little overwhelming. 

Beverly was funny, feisty, and confident of herself. The public liked her. 

Hannibal, however, the public loved. Confident, charming, polite, and very handsome. He looked better dressed than Will had ever seen him, so his heart couldn't help but skip a beat. Hannibal carried himself as an apex predator, but not in a way that made you want to run away, it was in a way that invited you to get closer. 

Will was almost embarrassed that Jimmy had to give him a little poke so he could actually pay attention to what was being said, and it was just in time because in the time Will had been lost inside his mind, the interview had venture into territory where Will was very involved. 

“Yes, I have someone back home.” Answered Hannibal with an almost honest smile. Almost, but Will knew him enough to see the strain. He surely hated having to talk about Will with the public. “Will is my best friend, and the person I hope to spend the rest of my life with. I vowed to come back to him, and I intend to keep that vow.” 

Will’s first reaction was to hide his face behind his hands, as he could feel all his blood going to his cheeks. His second reaction was that he was going to kill Hannibal when he came back, as he just had condemned Will to the ultimate spotlight when only the last tributes remained. 

_Only if Hannibal is between the last eight_ , an unhelpful voice reminded him. 

On second thought, he would forgive Hannibal, but only if he came back. That would be the price for his forgiveness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for Beverly, I swear this is also hurting me.
> 
> Wuuuuu another update on time (or at least here it's still Saturday). And with 4.6k words, this is the longest chapter yet. Are you guys liking the story? I hope so. Thank you to everyone who comments, your comments make me cry with happiness.
> 
> Next week, Abigail will have her private session with the game-makers! I hope I'm not confusing y'all too much by intercalating Abigail's chapters with Will and Hannibal's chapters, but it was the best way I came up with not to have to tell the entire process of the games three times because that would've been boring and repetitive.
> 
> Anyway, see you next week! :3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally time for Abigail to start proving herself to the Capitol as a capable tribute.

[73rd Hunger Games. Training Center.] 

“Are you ready for your private session?” Asked her Will, as they were the only ones on the breakfast table. Nicholas had chosen to eat in his bedroom, Hannibal had been whisked away to do mentor’s stuff, and Freddie was having breakfast with some of her ‘contacts’. 

_“A fancy way to say gossip over breakfast,” was all Will said when Abigail asked about it._

“Yes, I think so. How were you feeling in the morning of yours?” It came as a surprise to her that she had never asked. While they never censored themselves in front of her for talking about their games, Will seldom talked about his emotions during them. 

He insisted he was too close to hypothermia to actually reflex on his feelings at the time, but the training wad before, so he shouldn’t have difficulties remembering. 

“Numb. We had discussed at length if I should try to get a high score or not; I was in a unique situation where the Capitol already knew me. I was the spotlight for the interviews after Hannibal entered the last eight remaining tributes, and I had appeared enough on his Victory Tour when he was in the district.” He took a bite of his food, pancakes, and made a face. Abigail could relate, she also thought Hannibal’s were better. “Everyone had an impression of me already, so we couldn’t do anything to get a better public image. Most were sympathetic to me because even if they don’t see tributes as humans, they do see Victors as such. They wanted me to win for Hannibal. In the end, we decided that I should do whatever and we would work with that score.” 

“You had a six, right?” Not an impressive score, but manageable. 

“Yes, we decided to play it as if it was intentional. I don’t think anyone believed me back then, but I showed to be competent enough to be worthy of their pity.” He almost spat the last words. The idea they had to be worthy to the capitol citizens was disgusting, but that didn’t make it any less true. 

They finished their breakfast and prepared to go out. The tributes still had half a day of training, and private sessions would start after lunch. 

This was the first time that the whole strategy rested in her abilities; she felt like a nervous wreck. It was one thing to lie left and right about her, but this time she actually had to prove herself. If she got a low score, they would have to remake the whole plan, as an innocent facade in the interview would only be putting the nail on her coffin. Everything would have to be re-calculated, and any plan de could come up with wouldn’t be as good as the one they already had. 

She couldn’t fail. For the first time since before the reaping, the full blow of reality hit her full force. 

Will seemed to know where had her mind gone, even though she knew she hadn’t changed the neutral expression on her face. It wasn’t because of his crazy empathy either, even though he had once tried to explain to her how deep into someone’s mind he could sometimes get, Abigail knew he didn’t need it to get a good read on her. He just knew her. 

He stood up and made a gesture for her to do the same, which she did, and then he went over to her and pulled her into a full-force hug, letting her hide her face on his chest, his head resting over hers and her hands clinging to his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat in the middle of the sea. 

She couldn’t break down, she needed to go in a few minutes, but just this opportunity of letting someone else be strong for her was a profound relief. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Abigail cherishing the feeling of safeness she felt on her pseudo-dad’s arms. Will and Hannibal had opened a place in their lives for her, they claimed her as their daughter even without saying it. 

Their love was so different from her father’s. Garret Jacob Hobbs killed _because_ of her, his love was destructive to the point Abigail knew that, in the end, he would’ve tried to kill her. He preferred her dead than out of his reach, he would have eaten her to keep her with him forever. 

Will and Hannibal would kill _for_ her, like they had done for Mischa Lecter even after her death. Their love was also possessive, she knew that, but it was protective. They consider her their daughter, and what was theirs was to be protected, not destroyed. 

She wasn’t sure if it was always that way, but it was like that now, and Garret had left her fucked enough in her head so that it felt like the best type of love her parents could have for her. 

Even when Nicholas came into the room, Will didn’t immediately step aside. He gave her a last squeeze and then let her step far enough to kiss her forehead. 

It felt so natural, that Abigail thought how her theory of the awkward head-pat being more of an inside joke was mostly confirmed. She wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“Relax, you’ll do fine. We trust you.” He spoke. She nodded in response and smiled. Will then turned to Nicholas. “Hannibal couldn’t be here, but good luck impressing the game-makers. You’ll probably need it.” 

Then he walked off to his room, probably to finish dressing up before going out. 

Abigail waited until she and Nicholas were in the elevator to address what he saw. 

“Not a word about it, understood?” She had regained her composure enough so it looked like her little display of weakness had never happened. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I don’t think anyone would believe me if I did; I was starting to doubt you had feelings at all, and I’m pretty sure Graham has fame of growling at people.” It was a lame attempt at humor, but Abigail still laughed, if only because she was thankful for it. 

Nor Hannibal nor Will had ever confirmed or denied that Will had once growled at an interview, but she took that as all the confirmation needed. 

She also knew that Nicholas' kindness came from a misplaced sense of superiority. She had intimidated him before, but now he thought she was just a little girl playing tough. A little annoying, but no use crying over spilled milk. 

Besides, she couldn’t quite regret it, she had really needed that hug. 

The last morning of training went slower than usual. Nicholas and she separated again, and she ended up in the body combat station. In an ideal world, she wouldn’t end up in combat like that in the Arena, but her world was hardly ideal, so any move she could learn would probably end up proving useful. 

Lunch came and went without a hitch, and finally, they were outside the training room, waiting for their turn. As District 10, and as a woman in particular, Abigail would have to wait for nineteen tributes to go before her. 

A plan started forming inside of her head. She wasn’t an expert at anything, but she was good at many things, she would have to rely on her versatility to impress the game-makers. 

By the time her name was called, she knew what she had to do. 

She took a rope out of the respective station, and then went to the weapons. After some nudes, she had some improvised harness where she could hang two knives at her hips and an ax at her back, all without hindering her movement. After a brief hesitation, she took the bow on her shoulder and hung two arrows next to the knives. 

Then it came the funny part. The climbing wall had somehow an awkward angle to the practice range, but it wasn’t as if she would have a perfect angle for attacking in the arena. The problem was also that, even if she could perfectly throw a knife with just one hand, she needed both for the ax and the bow. That left her with the only option of taking another rope and hoping she would be able to improvise up there how to keep her balance. 

Walking to the climbing wall, she risked a glance at the game-makers, and most of them were looking very attentive. If not anything else, at least she had managed to get their attention. When she got to the wall, she took a deep breath. 

And she started climbing. 

After breakfast with Abigail, Will got dressed and went to the meeting room in the Viewing Center, which was in the same street as the Training Center. Freddie had arranged a meeting with a potential sponsor, but that would be in a few hours, first he needed to go talk with Plutarch Heavensbee. 

He had no idea what the hell could the man want from him now, considering Hannibal and him had done a perfect work of stopping Hobbs before District Ten had more security brought in, which would have been multiple levels of disastrous, as Ten was usually one of the safest District to pass information. Far enough from the Capitol, submissive enough not to be suspicious, and it hadn’t been a particularly problematic district even during the Rebellion. 

Which made obvious why Plutarch had wanted the killer eliminated as soon as possible, but still that didn’t explain what he wanted with Will now. 

“Will, come in quickly. We have at most ten minutes before they realize the camera and micros aren’t working,” was what he got from the man as a greeting. At least that meant he wouldn’t be stuck here for long. 

“What is this meeting for?" Inquired Will, straight to the point. 

Plutarch had interesting body language. At first glance, he looked like an open book, but then you could see the tension that just a man with one too many secrets understood. Logical, if you knew he was one of the heads of the rebellion here in the Capitol. That could get him killed any day, especially when he worked as close to important people as he did as a game-maker. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Will. The daughter of the man I told you to stop? That could bring even more eyes to your District than Hobbs himself.” 

Will liked Plutarch well enough, but he also wanted to punch his face half the time. Today was one of those times. 

Even wanting a rebellion, they were Capitol citizens, feeling entitled to everything, feeling like they had any right to pick people to die for the “greater good”. 

And Will sympathized with the wish of a rebellion, he truly did. There was a reason Hannibal and him helped when they could. If life had given them one thing, it had given them reasons to want to burn the Capitol to the ground. 

Now, however, life had also given them Abigail, and that became their priority. 

“If you hadn’t told me to get her father executed, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I wasn’t going to orphan her and then let her to her fate. She would have been executed.” 

“She is being executed!” Plutarch refuted. “That’s why she is here, it’s just a longer suffering, you should’ve just let her-” 

Before he could even finish his sentence, Will took him by the collar of his shirt with just enough force to start restricting the flow of air. Will make sure to inflict every bit of seriousness in his voice for his next words. 

“Hear me out, because I’m not repeating myself: She is not dying. She will win this stupid game, just as Hannibal and I won ours, and I don’t care one bit if that brings eyes to the district and you need to re-organize your communication system.” He released Plutarch but didn’t give him a chance to say anything. “I would let every district burn to the ground to bring Abigail back alive, so that’s all my work this year. Don’t call for me o Hannibal, we’ll see you in Abigail’s Victory Tour.” 

He turned around and left the room and the building. He didn’t let any doubt enter his brain, he had to trust Abigail. 

He gave himself a moment to collect himself and then took out the paper with the address Freddie had given him for the meeting with the potential sponsors. 

This would be a long day. 

“The girl from One will get at least a nine, she has to. Her arms are like twice my legs." 

Nicholas nodded in agreement with Abigail. They were betting on each tribute score with Alana and Freddie, as nor Hannibal nor Will had come back. Alana told them this was a tradition between the four of them and whichever tributes participated this year. 

Mr. Clark, Nicholas’ stylist, was sitting at the breakfast table, putting as much distance between them as possible, but not even Nicholas seemed to care. 

Five minutes before the program for the scores started, Will and Hannibal arrived, both talking before anyone could even ask them anything. 

“Eight for the district four’s male career, five for the female from district eleven, and four for both from district twelve,” Will said, and Freddie hurried to write it down next to their own predictions. 

“A ten for the girl from district nine, a nine for the female career of district four, and I think the girl from twelve will get a five,” predicted Hannibal. They sat at each side from Abigail on the sofa, Nicholas deciding to stay on the floor and Freddie and Alana on the other sofa. 

The show started, and after a brief introduction from Ceasar Flickerman, the results started appearing. 

With each tribute, Freddie announced the predicted scores and crossed off the wrong ones. 

Abigail got right the nine for the girl from one but got wrong her other two predictions. Nicholas and Alana got the three wrong, Freddie got two right but failed on her prediction for the male tribute from eight. By the time it was time for Abigail and Nicholas’ own scores, Hannibal had two right and one left, and Will had one right and three left. 

First was Nicholas. His photo appeared on the screen, followed by a five. Alana tried to congratulate him, but it felt fake, no one else commented. It wasn’t a good score. 

Abigail came after. She held her breath when her photo appeared on screen, and only when it was followed by a ten did she dare breathe again. 

Alana was ecstatic, and Freddie looked very happy as well, even if she kept her eyes on the screen to watch the last scores. Mindful of Nicholas' presence, Will and Hannibal professionally congratulated her, even if the satisfaction in their eyes wasn’t dissimulated at all. 

She felt lighter than she remembered ever feeling. A ten. Only three tributes had gotten a ten, the highest score that year, and she was one of them. This was exactly what she needed, now everyone would look her way even if she played innocent in the interview. No one got that score on accident. 

In the end, Will got his other three predictions right, which meant Hannibal failed one. After Freddie announced Will was the winner of this year’s betting pool, Nicholas retired early to his room, and Mr. Clark escaped once again. 

It was then that she found herself in a sequence of hugs after hugs, no one feeling the necessity of downplaying her score to pacify Nicholas. 

“That was amazing, Abigail!” Exclaimed Alana. “Imagine how many people will want to sponsor you! Oh god, I promise you, your outfit for the interview will be just as perfect! This is amazing news, when was the last time the district got a score so high?” 

“We actually don’t know,” answered Will. “A few years ago, a boy got a nine, and before that Hannibal got a nine. No one’s gotten a ten in the last twenty-five years.” 

Abigail had trouble digesting that. She was the highest score her district had gotten in more than twenty-five years? She had even gotten a higher score than Hannibal. Of course, she had been training all last year, but that didn’t dimmish her excitement. 

“We are very proud of you, Abigail,” told her Hannibal. She didn’t need to question if he was being truthful or not, she knew he really was proud of her. Will was proud of her. Alana and Freddie were proud of her. 

“If I can give you an idea,” suggested Freddie, “keep score of your deaths against Will and Hannibal’s in the Arena. I don’t think you’ll have the opportunity to beat Hannibal’s seven kills, but you can at least tie Will’s three. A bit of family rivalry will be super popular. You already beat both their training scores, after all.” 

Abigail took a moment to analyze the suggestion. It would make her look like she was having fun, which always made the tributes more popular. She knew she wouldn’t beat Hannibal, as seven was almost a record in the games. Freddie was right, however, that she could probably tie with Will without going out of her way to get into fights she wasn’t certain she could win. After all, like a fourth part of the tributes in his games froze to death, Abigail doubted she would face the same problem. 

Those were particularly boring games for the Capitol, after all. 

“That’s a very good idea, Freddie,” approved Hannibal. Abigail looked at Will, and he seemed of the same mind, even if he probably rather cut out his tongue than admit it. That was all the confirmation she needed. 

“I will try to remember it, I like the idea,” promised Abigail. 

Freddie and Alana hugged and congratulated her again before taking their leave. She stayed a bit longer with Will and Hannibal, the television already turned off, only enjoying each other’s company. When she started to yawn, Hannibal told her she should go to sleep. 

“You may want to pay Mr. Boyle a visit first” suggested Hannibal. “I have a feeling he may be second-guessing the alliance after today’s results.” 

Nicholas really wasn’t making her job of maintaining the alliance as long as possible easy, she even contemplated going straight to her room and leave him for the next day but leaving him all the night to second guess would probably make him even more difficult to deal with the next day. How bothersome. 

She went to Nicholas’ room and knocked on the door; he opened it and almost spit his question. 

“What are you doing here? Came to gloat?” 

It was a good thing there were only two more days before the games started because her patience with him was thinning more every time they talked. She hoped he would prove more reasonable in the arena. 

“I came to ask if you’re going to let your fragile male ego get in the way of our alliance.” She flinched as soon as the words left her mouth. That was way more aggressive than she intended. 

She clearly was more like Will than like Hannibal in that regard. 

Nicholas was staring right into her eyes, and she looked back at him without so much as blinking. For the first time since they got into the train to the Capitol, she saw the boy’s brain actually working. Looks like he would finally ask something smart. 

“Why do you even want the alliance? You are the favorite of both mentors, you will be insanely popular with the audience, and clearly you can fend for yourself. What do you even want me for?” 

She had wondered if he would ever ask, or if had enough of an ego to think he could be a good asset for her. She decided to be honest, as he did have a point: there was not much he could be useful other than the truth. 

“Historically, tributes in alliances get more sponsors. It’s easier to like a tribute when you see them interact with others; you could be the deadliest person on the arena, but if they never hear you even talk you probably won’t be as popular.” Abigail stayed quiet for a second deciding how to put him more at ease. Maybe a little joke. “You could try Will’s route and start talking to yourself, but I think the words ‘crazy’ or ’hallucinations’ don’t ring as attractive.” 

Nicholas frowned, trying to find in her words things that weren’t there. Maybe he was making connections in his brain: the careers not only were more popular for their training but also because you could get a better feeling of them during the alliance of the career pack. They interacted a lot, joked around, had the opportunity to charm the audience even while in the games. 

It was much more difficult doing those things by yourself. There was the obvious downside to having an ally: they could try to kill you, or you could end up attached just so you need to kill them in the end. None of those worried Abigail much, so she would take the risks. 

“So you want me as an ally... to have someone to talk to? Why me? You could have gotten better allies, but you didn’t try to talk to anyone else.” 

“Alliances are delicate things, it’s risky trusting someone there. I’m your only chance at getting sponsor gifts, so at least for the beginning, it’s not in your best interest that I die. That’s more than I would have with anyone else.” Her original plan wasn’t to be as... upfront about the borderline extortion, but for the first time it occurred to her that maybe he was stupid enough to not have gotten the hint. 

A minute in silence. Two. Three. She was about to turn around and go back to her room when he finally came to a decision. 

“We’re still allies.” Well, at least he could make wise decisions if she spelled the options and their consequences to him. 

She really was making him a favor; he wouldn’t stand a chance by himself. 

“Good, then we’ll work together with Freddie tomorrow morning. I don’t know if Hannibal and Will want to work with us together in the afternoon, but probably at least for a sermon for in-game behavior they will. Good night.” She waited for him to nod in agreement before retiring to sleep. 

Nicholas may be an idiot, but it was an idiot easy to manipulate. Abigail had gotten lucky in that regard. 

She wondered how long it would take before she had to kill him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo  
> I’m a day late again, I know. It’s just that calculus is kicking my ass :( Curse the day I thought it would be a good idea to be a Math Major. I should warn you that I probably will update on Sunday again next week, because I may have an exam on Saturday... we’ll see, but I promise you’ll have your chapter! We’ll see Will’s interview and we’ll get a glimpse of the infamous Arena!
> 
> I hope y’all enjoyed the chapter! Our dear Abigail is not only a master manipulator, she’s also ready to kick ass, as she should. And I think I corrected the biggest crime of the show, which was not giving us a hug between Will and Abigail :(
> 
> Thank you for all the comments!!!! Every comment makes me the happiest ever :3 <3 See you next week! Wish me luck in my exams XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year after Hannibal wins his games, it was time for Will to prove himself.

[49th Hunger Games. Training Center.]

“I told you, you should have tried to be friendlier to the cameras.” 

“No offense, Mrs. Komaeda, but I didn’t expect to be in this situation a year ago” was Will answer, which had remained the same since the last time their escort had made a similar comment, almost an hour ago. 

"At least any improvement will be seen as Hannibal's impeccable efforts at training his pet," was the unasked input Bedelia gave. 

Mrs. Komaeda sighted, knowing where this was going. Bedelia and Will have proven incapable of being in the same room for more than an hour without starting the pettiest fights. 

"At least you can train a pet to kill. Tell me, Bedelia, what exactly can you do? I don't think making people angry at you will be a great asset in the arena." 

"I am self-sufficient, I don't need anyone's popularity to increase my chances." 

"Strong words from someone who got a five at training." 

“Is a six that much better?" 

“Don't pretend you weren't at the breakfast table when Robert and Hannibal told me the best strategy for me was to score average. What is your strategy? Annoy everyone to death?" 

"That's enough from both of you," interrupted them Mrs. Komaeda. "You'll get your chance to resolve your arguments in the arena." 

_Resolve your arguments,_ she said. _Kill each other_ , was what they both heard. Bedelia stopped moving at all, while Will coughed to dissimulate the awkwardness. 

Unaware of the discomfort she brought to both teenagers, Mrs. Komaeda kept on talking. 

"Bedelia, dear, you really need to smile. Or at least try to look like you're not smelling trash." The glance Bedelia gave their escort would put a lesser woman to tears, but Mrs. Komaeda was no lesser woman, so she just brushed off the girl's anger and turned to Will. "Will, I know you don't like eye contact, but you really need to make an effort with Mr. Flickerman, you'll look scared otherwise." 

Those had been Mrs. Komaeda's biggest complaints about them for the entire morning they had been with her. 

Will had been trying to keep eye contact with her when they practiced, and after a while, it got easier. It became easier to tune out whatever information his brain processed about her, to just not let his brain wander. 

Still, by pure force of habit, he ended up averting her gaze again and again. He would probably manage in his interview; he just would need to concentrate. 

Bedelia was also cooperative, to a degree, but she also seemed to forget herself and randomly go back to the resting bitch face she usually had. 

Not that Will called it that out loud. 

He understood her to a degree, eighteen-year-old tributes tended to be more aggressive. It was a normal response for when you felt like you had finally gotten away, just to be pulled back in the last second. 

He still couldn't stand her, and the sentiment was very mutual. They managed, however, a certain degree of civility for the rest of their turn with Mrs. Komaeda. 

(Will hoped he could see Bedelia fall with the high heels Mrs. Komaeda gave her, but as a merchant's daughter she had actually used that kind of shoes before and, although higher than she had ever used, she managed to walk gracefully. 

Will wondered how had Beverly done with those shoes last year. He felt a jab in his heart thinking about her, so he decided against asking Hannibal later about it.) 

After a brief break for a meal, they separated to the turn with the mentors. As they would not be allies, it was in their best interest not to share their more detailed strategy. 

To no one's surprise, Will ended up with Hannibal and Bedelia with Robert. 

While Will was decently certain Hannibal could keep a sense of professionality with Bedelia as a mentor, it seemed unnecessary as they would all know it wasn't genuine. 

Robert was better suited; he was more neutral. Or as neutral as he could be, considering he hadn't known Bedelia a week ago, and that Will had been a regular presence on the Victor's Village for the last year.   
They had even shared some meals together. 

"Congratulations on not starting a physical fight with Bedelia, Mrs. Komaeda told us it was a near thing," was Hannibal's greeting. 

Will made a quick scan of his surrounding, looking for something to throw at his boyfriend, but after not finding something adequate he settled for a weak slap on the arm. 

"I don't know how you stand her," responded Will. 

Bedelia wasn't exactly Hannibal's friend, but she was the only person who kept talking to him as normal after he came back for the Games. 

He didn't need to go back to school for his last year, but he decided to do it anyway as he had nothing better to do. The recess he spent with Will, and because Will's few friends had stopped talking to him after... Beverly, they usually spent the time alone. 

In class, however, Bedelia was the only one who managed to work with him without making a big deal out of it, so they established a somehow friendly relationship.   
Bedelia would have preferred more, but Hannibal had rejected her years before. That may or may not be part of the reason she was so openly antagonistic to Will. 

It may also be the reason Will had for being so antagonistic to her. 

Will knew Hannibal wouldn't care about her death, not like Will had cared for Beverly's, so that made it better. 

He still couldn't stand her. 

"How was the training with Mrs. Komaeda, do you feel ready to charm the audience?" Asked Hannibal, not bothering to reply to Will's previous statement. 

"Charm would be a bit of a stretch, but I think I won't make a fool of myself," answered Will with honesty. 

"You have more charm that you are aware of, you could weaponize it to win over the entire audience. You already did it with me." 

"As much as I know you really mean that, we both know your definition of charming is very different from everyone else in Panem," retorted Will this time 

Images from their first meeting flashed in his mind. Hannibal's open curiosity about him was refreshing. Everyone marked him as odd and weird, but no one had demonstrated that genuine wish to learn more about him. 

To know everything about him. 

Hannibal gave him a half-smile, probably thinking of the same day. 

"I do know that, and anyway I wouldn't wish to share that charm of yours with the unworthy that will be watching tonight. I meant that you know what people like to hear, you know what they want you to be." Will nodded, understanding now what Hannibal's point was. "You usually just don't bother, don't care. Tomorrow night, you need to bother and to care." 

Will knew this, all of it. It wouldn't even be that difficult, he already knew what they would want of him. 

He made a few breathings and imagined the personality the public wanted as costume, a suit, he needed to put on. When he opened his eyes, he met Hannibal's glare, expectant. 

Will gave him a snarky smile and Hannibal took that as his cue to start throwing questions, each one of them Will answered flawlessly. 

He had a character. He knew he could keep it. 

They spent a few hours in that dance, making sure could keep his facade with even the most improper questions. They were at disadvantage, in the sense that with all the easy questions about him already answered, Ceasar Flickerman had more time to get creative. They weren't sure what that could entail. 

The early evening found them sitting on the floor next to each other, Will's head resting on Hannibal's shoulder. 

"Do you really think I'm going to impress anyone?" Wondered Will out loud after they had run out of ideas of questions that could be asked. 

"You will, if you relax more with yourself. Every other tribute, even the careers, are no more than prays. You're a hunter, even if they don't know it, they feel it, it's instinct." 

Will thought that Hannibal would have said exactly that even if they weren't in a room full of cameras and microphones, it was his exact brand of dramatic. 

It was okay, Will knew how to translate it. 

_You have killed before, they haven't._

Will ran his tongue across his lips, savoring the ghost flavor of the soup he had prepared for Hannibal earlier that year. He wasn't as good of a chef as Hannibal, but the gift had been received with the proper enthusiasm. 

Once again, Will wondered if that was what landed him here, or if it had been Hannibal's little show in his Games, or if it was just that Hannibal had won. 

When Hannibal got reaped, Will had been sure it had been on purpose. It was too perfect, too convenient. 

Somehow, Hannibal had convinced him he was being paranoid, that it was just a coincidence. 

After Will had been reaped, Hannibal had accepted that the name draw had been rigged. No one had that much bad luck in such a precise moment. They knew it, but it wasn't as if they could make anything with that knowledge. 

Just hate the Capitol even more. 

“I had your district token approved this morning,” said Hannibal to break the silence that had settled. 

“I don't have a district token, do I?” 

Hannibal looked at him as if he had made the silliest of questions. 

“Of course you do.” He took something out of his pocket and extended it to Will. 

He recognized it immediately. 

“You're giving me back the bracelet I gave you? Should I feel bad about it? I think that is the prelude for a break-up,” joked lightly Will. He had many fears. Hannibal breaking up with him wasn't one of them. 

“Of course not, but it gave me the luck to come back to you, so hopefully it Will give you the luck to come back to me.” 

Will stared a Hannibal for a moment, trying to determine if he was being serious or not.   
He noted the smile twitch of his lips, and Will burst out laughing, 

“Oh God, you just want us to be the most disgustingly cute couple of Panem.” He fought to get the words out, the laughter barely allowing him to breathe. 

When he brought his eyes back to Hannibal, he could see him laughing too, although more controlled than Will. A brief moment of eye contact told Will they were thinking of the exact same moment. 

_“Besides,”_ _Mrs._ _Komaeda had added, “the public loves you two, you are adorable.”_

“It would be rude not to give the public what they want, wouldn't you agree?” Hannibal asked him, clearly amused by his own joke. 

As a matter of fact, Will didn't agree, but he took the bracelet and put it around his own wrist anyway. 

“Any other suggestion you want to make before calling it a day?” 

"No, I trust you to speak for yourself." 

"You probably shouldn't, but I appreciate it anyway. Now let's go eat something and go to sleep, I suspect tomorrow will be a long day for me." 

Hannibal smiled with fondness but did not correct him. After hearing him complain all day about the prep team after the Opening Ceremony, Hannibal was fairly sure the next day would be even worse than Will expected. 

They went to Will's room and ordered some food, allowing silence to fill their time. It was not uncomfortable; being together in silence was like being in silence by oneself, with no expectations or pressure to talk. 

Will would miss him in the Arena, and he knew he should probably be thinking about all the other problems he would face there, but he couldn't help but remember how alone and adrift he had felt during Hannibal's games. He kept seeing him, hearing him, even knowing he wasn't there; it was so strange to be alone inside his own head when Hannibal had made a place for himself there since the moment they met. 

Will dragged Hannibal to his bed, so they could lay down next to each other. He knew he should sleep; he probably wouldn't be getting much sleep in the Arena. It was dangerous, he would be high in adrenaline most of the time. 

He would probably have nightmares, he had been having them since Hannibal got reaped for the Games. Will had imagined Hannibal dying in a thousand different ways, many of them by Will's own hand; it felt wrong to admit that the latter were the ones that terrified him the least. 

None of that made it any easier trying to sleep here, however. They were pigs outside of the butchery, it would be foolish to just let down their guard. 

Hannibal started carding his fingers through Will's hair, trying to soothe the younger boy and lull him into falling asleep. 

"It's okay, Will, everything will be okay." The worlds were barely more than a whisper, which made Will wonder if Hannibal had meant to say them out loud at all. He responded, anyway. 

"How can you know that?" Will half-expected some pretentious answer that didn't mean much at all, so it was a shattering blow when Hannibal didn't say anything at all. 

He didn't know that. They both knew it. Hannibal had been acting strong for Will, had never as much as acknowledge that there could be a victor other than Will this year, all because he knew Will was already nervous enough by himself. 

Hannibal must have been driving himself mad, knowing that at the end of the day there was little he would be able to do, and that even the most promising tributes died in the Games. All but one. 

Will turned to his side, facing Hannibal, and buried himself in his boyfriend's arms, trying to give him the comfort he also needed. Hannibal stopped all movement for a moment, trying to catch up with Will's mind to understand what was happening. When he did, he wrapped his arms around Will, squeezing him with a bit -a lot- more strength than necessary, but Will didn't complain. It was grounding, he felt protected. 

He drifted to a dreamless sleep. 

The next morning when he woke up, he was alone in the bed, Hannibal probably gone to fulfill his duties as victor and mentor, and him surrounded by his prep team, who were already talking about everything that needed to be done before he could be on camera for the interview. He closed his eyes and blocked the outside world by playing the background noises of the farms. 

His hair ended up well-groomed to a side part, and it may have had something to make it shinier, but Will hadn't been paying attention when his prep team explained what were they doing. 

It came to a mild surprise for him that his clothes were... simple. Elegant, of course, but simple. 

A black suit-jacket with one button that he had to unbutton when he sat down, and then re-button when he stood up; which was one of the most ridiculous instructions Will had ever heard, but he was fairly sure his team would just start crying if he forgot, so he promised them he could do it. 

He also had matching black trousers and a light gray shirt, which came without additional instructions, thankfully. 

The interview never allowed the same creativity as the Opening Ceremony for the stylist, even less for the male tributes than the female ones, but he had expected something more... memorable? Eye-catching? He wasn't sure. 

"It was Robert's idea," his stylist explained when he asked. "This suit is simple, but very much like the ones Hannibal usually wears in public, it will help you look the part of the power couple." 

Will was just glad they hadn't had this conversation near Bedelia, because even he could imagine all the jests that could be made about the fact they were dressing him up like Hannibal. 

The team looked hesitant at the leather bracelet, but then seemed to recognize it and let him keep it on without further comment. 

After both prep teams deemed ready their tributes, he and Bedelia were escorted to the elevator, where they reunited with Mrs. Komaeda, who made sure to tell them how divine they looked, Robert, who just nodded at them and wished them luck, and Hannibal, who didn't even try to dissimulate that he couldn't take his eyes off Will. 

Hannibal took advantage of the time the elevator took to get to their destiny, the stage where the interviews took place, to sneak a kiss to his cheek and whisper to his ear: 

"Your beauty could bring an entire nation to their knees." He looked too satisfied with himself, Will had to resist the urge to bite the smile out of his face. 

He decided, however, that his priority should be to get the redness Hannibal's compliment had caused out of his face. It was so easy to forget everyone else when Hannibal was that close to him, he missed the disgusted glare Bedelia sent their way.

They went their separate ways when he and Bedelia headed down backstage, while the rest of the team goes to their seats with the public. 

Even with twenty-four teens in the same room, you could hear the drop of a pin. No one talked, not even district partners, not even the career districts. 

Maybe it was finally dawning in all of them the reality of the situation they were in. By this time tomorrow, many of them would be dead. 

When the show starts, Ceasar Flickerman gets the hype going with some jokes with the audience, which they can see on the monitor in the backstage. 

Will paid attention to the first three or four interviews, before losing interest. This didn't look like a very exciting year for the games: the highest score had been an eight by the career from District Two named Randall Tier, and from the district that preceded Will, the only tribute that seemed to connect with the public had been Abel Gideon, from District One. 

Will forced himself to pay attention again when it was Bedelia's turn. She was a natural Ice Queen, which could go either very well with the public, or very wrong. She at least managed a neutral expression, that didn't tell a word of her distaste for her situation, Mrs. Komaeda would be proud. 

The first two minutes of the interview were unremarkable, with the typical questions and answers so the public got to know her, but it was in the last third of the interview that the questions got more specific. 

"Do you feel any disadvantage from having an already well-known person as your district partner, Bedelia?" 

"Should I? A scared little boy that feels entitled because his boyfriend already won. I know his kind, all bark, and no bite." 

Some brief closure and her interview was over, Will being next. He was angry, very angry, but that wasn't the character, so he suppressed all the words he wanted Bedelia to hear and walked into the stage with a confident smile and friendly greeting to the public. 

He hated them all. 

Ceasar greeted him like he did all tributes, and didn't miss a beat to address the elephant in the room. 

"I must admit I'm a little out of my depth here. Usually, this interview is to get to know you, but I feel like we're already friends, don't you, Will?" 

His interviews when Hannibal entered the last eight remaining tributes. His forced appearance in the District 10 part of Hannibal's Victory Tour. They weren't talking about that, though, they were talking about how he was mentioned in almost every televised conversation Hannibal and Beverly had, being as he was one of the few common topics they had. 

Everyone had known him before he even had his first appearance. 

"Indeed, and it's better this way, I'm not very good at making new friends." The joke, a little self-deprecating but warm, hit in the right way. Ceasar laughed and the public with him. 

Ceasar made a little check of his clothing and stopped at seeing his wrist. 

Hannibal really knew what he was doing. 

"Now I may be wrong, but I think that bracelet is a bit familiar?" 

"It was from my father; he gave it to me when I was a child. I gave it to Hannibal last year so he had something of mine in the Games; this year he decided that if it had brought him back to me, it may as well bring me back to him now," explained Will, playing into the "adorable couple" image Mrs. Komaeda was so sure they had. 

The audience reaction went from genuinely moved, to a little concerned. He had a six in training, he wasn't really that impressive as a competitor. 

Will knew before Ceasar opened his mouth, he was going to ask next about what Bedelia said. 

"You look very sure you have a chance, maybe you can share anything your district partner doesn't know?" 

Will could be the bigger person, the mature one. He could. 

He wouldn't be. 

"Oh yeah, I heard what she said. A little embarrassing, if you ask me, she's still not over the fact that Hannibal rejected her a few years ago." He let that set in everyone's minds for a second, he had just invalidated everything she had said about him. "I don't intend to die, she can call it whatever she wants, but I would like to keep a few surprises for the arena, if you don't mind” 

The smile he gave a pubic was a tad too amused to be considered flirty but worked all the same. He saw everyone in the public nod, unconsciously agreeing with him; that meant Will had done a good job of engaging them in the conversation. 

They would remember him; they would feel close to him. They were so easy to manipulate, Will almost felt bad about how stupid they were. Almost. 

With just a few seconds left in his timer, Ceasar started saying goodbye, and Will made a show of not wanting to leave. The moment he put a foot out of the stage, he almost ran to the elevator, wanting to get the hell out of there. 

When he opened the door, he was almost immediately assaulted by a very angry Bedelia. 

"You reckless, twitchy little boy, you think you're so clever? Might as well cut our throats and be done with it, we're as dead as they come." 

"You play, you pay. I remind you, Bedelia, it was you who started with the pettiness on television." He could have stopped there, but he honestly couldn't care less anymore. "You should thank me, at least everyone will remember something of your otherwise unmemorable interview." 

She looked about to say something else, but she didn't have the opportunity. 

"Both of you stop, now," interrupted Robert, who had just arrived next to the rest of the team. "If you can't play nice for the few hours left of today, you can go to your rooms. Otherwise, let's go have dinner." 

Refusing to let themselves be ushed to their rooms like little kids, they turned their back on each other and walked straight to the dining room. 

Mrs. Komaeda and Hannibal commented about most interviews during dinner, and after they directed everyone into the living room, to seat around the monitor to watch the replay of the highlights of the interviews. 

As Will had determined back in the moment, most interviews were boring, and the highlights were just where whatever they said when they weren't repeating the same three praises about the Capitol. 

With Bedelia, they played the last part of her interview. 

They played Will's whole interview. 

Bedelia stood up and went to her room, not bothering to even say goodbye to their mentors or escort, even though they wouldn't see them again in the morning. 

"They like you," told him Robert to break the silence. "If you survive the first day, you'll probably have sponsors for an emergency. So just... don't die." 

Will nodded and accepted the pat on the shoulder Robert gave him. 

The next one was Mrs. Komaeda, she smiled at him as if she knew a secret no one else knew and kissed both his cheeks. 

"I'll see you in a few weeks, okay? And if you think I was bad yesterday, just wait until your Victory Tour." She was so confident, the only thing Will could do was thank her and tell her they would see each other soon. 

His stylist told him he would come in the morning to take him to the arena, Bedelia's stylist didn't say a word. 

When only he and Hannibal were left, Will almost wanted to just go to sleep without saying anything. He didn't want to say goodbye, he didn't accept this was goodbye at all. 

Hannibal must have felt his reticence to any verbal acknowledgment of their imminent separation, so he didn't say anything, he just turned to Will, cupped his face between his hands, and made their lips met in a gentle kiss that, to Will, tasted like hope. 

They hadn't kissed since Hannibal had come back from his Games, as none of them felt the need to hurry just because the entire nation was aware of their relationship. 

A small part of Will wanted to regret not having kissed Hannibal more in the last year, but a bigger part insisted that no regret was necessary. 

They would have all the time in the world once Will came back. 

They exchanged no words, and both left to their respective rooms for the night. 

Will had thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, as he was now alone and with the beginning of the Games a few hours away, but sleep came easy. Maybe it was the need from his body to have one last restful sleep before the Games. 

Will wondered how long they would be. Hannibal's had lasted a week, because him, Miriam Lass from District 7, and the career from Two whose name Will no longer remembered, had gone through most of the other tributes with a historic speed. 

Most of the Games, however, lasted around two weeks, maybe a bit more. The problem was that the longer the Games ran, the weaker the tributes became, as a human could only go so long with minimum sleep, food and water, even as high in adrenaline that everyone was most of the time. 

When morning came, the only person Will met was his stylist, who took him to one of the hovercrafts that took the tributes to the Arena. 

The travel time isn't long, maybe two hours, and the only other person Will sees is a kind nurse that injected the tracker into his arm. Will didn't want to think about his situation, so he started to wonder what was Hannibal doing. 

Robert, Mrs. Komaeda and Hannibal must be in the Games Headquarters, talking to sponsors if he or Bedelia have any already, waiting for the clock to strike ten for the games to start, otherwise. 

When they reached their destination, Will and his stylist were led to the room in the catacombs of the Arena, where he would finish getting ready. There's plenty of food, and even if Will isn't hungry, he makes sure to at least eat something, not knowing how long it would be until his next meal. 

He starts getting nervous when an Avox brings them the bag with his uniform for the games, the same clothes every tribute would be wearing. 

First, a set of thermal underwear, including wool socks. Then shirt and trousers that, confirmed by his stylist, are clearly meant for retaining the body's heat. It came as no surprise when the next item was a waterproof and windproof, very thick jacket with a hood full of synthetic fluff. Will doesn't bother to hear his stylist's explanation for the boots, he already had an idea of what they were for, same with the gloves. 

Will did notice that the gloves clearly prioritized movement over insulating temperature, he could already tell that would be a problem. 

The announcement that the tributes must get ready for the launch comes eventually, so Will stood over a circular metal plate as a glass cylinder lowers around him. 

When the metal plate began to raise, Will immediately felt the temperature starting to descend. 

When the plate stopped moving, he was finally in the arena. He had sixty seconds before the gong marked the beginning of the games. 

There was no snow around them, but Will was sure there would be soon. Their immediate surroundings were mostly plain, with small vegetation, the word _tundra_ came to Will's mind. 

Behind him, he could devise the start of something like a forest not too far away. Beyond the cornucopia, the start of a more mountainous terrain could be seen. 

Thirty seconds. He needed to make a choice. The forest was the most obvious choice, as it would give him the wood for the fire that would probably be needed, and it would be easier to hide. It was the logical choice. 

More people would go there. 

Fifteen seconds. Will knew where he needed to go to have a chance. He just hoped he wasn't signing his own death sentence. 

Ten seconds. He got in position to run and took a deep breath. 

Five seconds. His face now felt stiff with the cold. 

The gong rang out. Will ran to the mountains. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello... here am I... a week late. Sorry about that, university really kicked my ass. I think I can do an extra update on Wednesday to compensate for the missed update, so hopefully, you'll see more of me this week.
> 
> That being said, Bedelia and Will's pettiness with each other was a delight to write! It was very funny, I hope you'll enjoy it too. You may feel a little confused about how Will interacts with the public here, and how he does in the future, but in the next chapter, Freddie will comment about it, so be patient! The next chapter is also Abigail's interview and a bit of Murder Family quality time, so I hope you are excited about it!
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, I appreciate each one of them and they really motivate me when the chapter wouldn't cooperate (which happened a lot in this chapter).
> 
> See you (hopefully) in a few days for the extra update <<<333


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Nicholas must prepare for the interviews that will introduce them to the Capitol.

The day started as the previous ones, with breakfast ready for everyone. Abigail was absorbed in a conversation about life in the Capitol with Freddie, with the small interventions of Hannibal. Will decided to listen in silence, as not only didn't he have much to add, but he was too tired to even try. He knew after his third cup of coffee, he would be okay, but he was still in the second one, so that still was the future. 

He couldn't sleep. Or, well, he could, but the nightmares had woken him up, and he had decided not to sleep again. The nightmares from his and Hannibal's games had never really stopped, but usually, when he woke up and he rationalized that they were okay, and the games were just the past, he could go back to sleep, but now the nightmares were about the future, Abigail's future. 

For a second, Will could see his hand drenched in her blood after slicing her neck, as he had done to his first victim in the games. He could remember the constraint between the freezing air and the warm blood running out of her neck, just as it had been twenty-three years ago. 

He knew he wouldn't kill her, but the knowledge that she could die anyway was enough to keep him awake. 

"Then what will happen today?" asked Nicholas Boyle in one of the brief pauses of the conversation engaged in the table. Will had almost forgotten the boy was there. 

"In the morning, Freddie will work with both of you so you won't offend the Capitol in your interview." Started enlisting Will. He skipped the part where Abigail didn't need much help at all in this, but he and Hannibal still needed to go run some errands, so she would have to stay with them anyway. "After lunch, I'm taking Abigail and you're going with Hannibal to a more detailed discussion on how you want the public to perceive you and which is the best way to achieve that. Finally, we're getting together to discuss how you must keep acting in the arena so your hard work in the interview doesn't fade in the first few days." 

Will didn't need more time with Abigail to discuss strategy, but it would be suspicious to say so. Will was sure she would appreciate a few free hours to just relax and maybe play cards while they waited for Hannibal and Nicholas. 

It's not as if they would take very long either, as Abigail had, metaphorically, beaten the rebellion out of her district partner, so he would probably be very compliant with whatever Hannibal suggested. 

It was for the best, as a more rebellious personality only worked with the score to back it, and Nicholas definitely didn't have that. 

After they finished breakfast, and Will finished his fourth cup of coffee, everyone went their ways. Freddie stayed with Nicholas and Abigail in the apartment; Hannibal went to do a few check-ups with Alana and Mr. Clark, and then he had two meetings with potential sponsors that were more than impressed with Abigail's score last night. That left Will with a short errand and another meeting with Margot. 

For his errand, he went to the basement of the building, to the small office for the review of District Tokens. He crossed paths with Finnick, whose tribute had brought a necklace with a shell, and Cecilia, whose tribute brought a ring braided with bright and colorful yarns. 

When Will finally arrived, the woman in charge gave him that package with the token, giving him the whole discourse of how the game-makers determined it was inoffensive enough to be allowed. Will almost laughed at that, it was the third time it was being approved, of course, it was inoffensive. 

He put the package in the pocket of his jacket and started wondering what was the best approach to start a rumor when someone called his name. 

"Will, good to see you," greeted him Ceasar Flickerman. Will brighten up inside by the opportunity that presented itself. 

It looked like he wouldn't have to ask Margot for advice on how to spread gossip. 

"Hello, Ceasar. What are you doing here? I don't remember you having a tribute to mentor." The response got a lighthearted laugh to the other man. 

Will, as all the other mentors, knew that Ceasar had a soft spot for the tributes, always helping them give the best impression of themselves to the public, always helping them keep their foot out of their mouths. That, of course, reflected in how he was the only person to have a... mostly good relationship with all the Victors. Remembering how intimidating was to be alone on the stage for the first time, it was easy to be amicable to the one who helped you in those trying times. 

"I just wanted to check everything is going smooth with the tokens. You know how the game-makers can get a little paranoid when deciding what could be used as a weapon and what couldn't." His face let Will guess he was remembering the events of three years ago. 

A twelve-year-old girl from District 6 had brought a long necklace that her grandmother had given her. It was long enough that she had to tangle it up twice around her neck. The game-makers thought it could be used as a weapon to strangle another tribute, even when it was so thin one could break it with one's hands without any difficulty at all. 

In the end, Ceasar had pleaded the case for the token, and it was allowed for the girl to take it with her. She died in the blood bath. 

"Well, it's the third time checking the same token here, so I didn't think they would suddenly come up with an idea of how to use an old leather bracelet as a weapon," offered Will. The reaction was immediate. 

Ceasar's eyes shined, excited about the piece of information he had been given. His smile gave away that he knew what Will was doing, just as Will had guessed he would. It was unimportant, in a spectacle sometimes spontaneity was overrated, 

"Abigail will take the same token you and Hannibal took, then?" Even if it was formulated as a question, it was obvious for both of them that it was a statement of fact. 

"If the Games are going to be... what did Chaff call them?" He took the time to look like he was trying to remember. "A family tradition, I think were his words, then we may as well keep the rest of the traditions. They have brought us this far." 

Ceasar's smile decayed for a moment. If Will had to guess, he would say the man was thinking of what other "tradition" he could be talking about. Will huffed and shake his head, trying to reassure the other, even if they couldn't exactly say out loud what they were both thinking. The President had been clear they were not to talk about it ever again. 

Will had no plan of keeping that particular tradition alive. 

Ceasar seemed to get it, as his shoulders immediately relaxed and his smile went back to the almost unnatural one he always had on his face. 

"If part of the tradition is to charm off the audience, I cannot wait for tomorrow." He made a gesture of checking the clock on his wrist. "Look at that! I need to go, it was a pleasure Will. I'm excited to see how this spectacle of yours will play." 

With that, the man left. Will waited till Ceasar was out of sight to let a smile grow on his face. That would certainly give the presenter enough ideas for Abigail's interview, he probably wouldn't go out of the script they wanted. 

With that done, he started walking to Margot's home. 

"It looks too forced, no one will like you if you look like you'd prefer to be anywhere but there." Freddie raised her hand to stop Nicholas from blurting the words that, Abigail guessed, Freddie heard every year. "Yes, I know you would prefer to be anywhere but here, but I don't care about the truth and neither does the public. This interview can fix the mess of your score, or it can make it much worse." 

Abigail had to restrain herself from smiling to that. Freddie was blunt in the most un-empathetic way Abigail had ever experimented, and it was hilarious. Of course, it could be much less fun if she was on the other end of her borderline cruel remarks, but Freddie liked to corner someone she thought she could break for her own benefit. She took one glance at Abigail and, same as she decided with Hannibal, she saw it would be more beneficial to treat her like an ally. 

Freddie had decided the same with Will, as she knew she wouldn't break him, but annoying him looked to be a lot of fun for her. Besides, she clearly knew when to stop. 

Abigail kept walking around with the heels Freddie had lent her. She knew she wouldn't be using high heels in her interview, but she didn't have anything else to do, and this was one thing she had never done before. It was exciting, trying to keep her balance while walking gracefully. 

"How can you be so sure I will have a cheerful approach to the public? Not even I'm sure," asked Nicholas while Freddie tried to correct his posture to one more  proper , instead of the lazy posture he had before. "And why are you only helping me? Abigail can surely walk and talk at the same time." 

Abigail thought of commenting that he could try to walk on those things and still have the concentration to talk, but Freddie beat her to talk. 

"Whatever she hasn't learned from one year of living with Hannibal and Will, is not something I could teach her in a few hours. Except walking on heels, which she mastered in the first hour." As if to prove her point, she gestured Abigail to spin in her place, which she did without a problem. 

"What could she have learned with Will that would help her here?" 

"Hey!" intervened Abigail finally. "I'll have you know that, after the interviews, Will was the most popular tribute of his year, even if not the one everyone thought most likely to win." 

"Didn't you say he once growled in an interview?" 

"Not an interview," corrected Freddie. "It was a meeting with a sponsor. Will is a master manipulator, when he wanted to be charming in the interview, half of the Capitol fell in love with him. You can ask Alana, I'm pretty sure she joined a fan club for Will that year." While talking, Freddie kept trying to correct Nicholas' posture, by forcing him to throw his shoulders back "After he won, he no longer cared about being popular, so he acted like a rabid dog until he was left alone." 

"And the growling in a meeting? Wasn't that almost sabotaging his tribute that year?" 

"Will's only charm now is exactly that he acts like a rabid dog. He wakes a morbid curiosity in many people. Hannibal manages the interviews with people who want a civilized mentor; the ones who want a funny anecdote ask for Will. He just did what the sponsor wanted of him: act unstable and dangerous. The sponsor actually signed to help the tribute, but the boy died later that same day." 

Nicholas shivered at the reminder that, where he was, other seventy-two male tributes had been before, and all but two had died. Freddie, either not noticing it or just not caring, started again by trying to make him smile. 

"About your first question," decided to answer Abigail, as Freddie had clearly forgotten about that one. "Happy, cheerful, playful tributes are always favorites. Only if you are, like, a giant with a lot of muscle you can pull off a colder personality. You're barely taller than me and probably thinner, you won't intimidate anyone, so more smiling and less crying." 

To give the example, she sent his way the purest smile she could give, and he looked a bit thrown off for a second, before understanding her point. 

The rest of the morning went similarly, with Freddie telling funny anecdotes of interviews of previous years, either the ones she remembered from her childhood, like Will and Hannibal's, to the ones she lived as an escort, which she had been for ten years already. She had been assigned since the beginning to District Ten, so she didn't have a personal anecdote about a winner, but she was close enough to other escorts that she had some good second-hand stories. 

Abigail asked for stories of Victor's Will and Hannibal were friendly with, especially the Victor from two years ago, Johanna Mason, as Abigail really admired the woman for the skill she had shown in her games not only for killing but also for deceiving both the audience and the other tributes. 

In the districts no one was a fan of a tribute from another district, maybe excepting the year Finnick Odair won, as Abigail could remember quite a few of the teenagers were half in love with him, but Abigail could be categorized as Johanna's fan. 

She was very excited she would get to meet her in the Victory Tour. 

Lunchtime came, and even during the meal the adults were clearly adjusting details of whatever complex plan they had going on. 

“Where am I watching the interviews, Will?” Asked Freddie. After hearing her talk all morning, Abigail was almost sure Freddie exaggerated her accent when Will present, probably to annoy him. 

Their mutual pettiness was a delight to watch. 

Will took a closed envelope out of his jacket and gave it to her. Freddie lowered her fork and took it, opening it carefully after. Her smile at reading it was that one of the children back home when they first visited the farms. Wonder, and childish excitement. Abigail probably stared too long at her, for she extended the letter she took out of the envelope to her. 

Abigail, not seeing a reason to hide her curiosity, took it and read it. It was an invitation for a party at the Verger's Mansion. Abigail felt like she should know that name... 

“Verger... is that your friend's last name? Miss Margot?” She inquired, looking at Will. 

“Yes, Margot Verger. Her brother, Mason Verger, hosts several parties during the games, this one is to watch the interviews.” Will took a sip of his wine, his expression darkening at the mention of Mason's name. “All the wealthiest and most enthusiastic about the games are invited. Some victors are also invited, but Mason proves to be too repellent for them, so only Hannibal and I are regular guests, as a personal favor to Margot, but not in this one, as mentors must stay here for the tribute's interviews. Escorts, however, are not bounded by such a rule.” 

So, a party full of wealthy capitol citizens that can't wait to bet for the next winner. No other victor talking about their tribute, and by the sound of the guest list neither other escorts. A wonderful place to get sponsors. 

Abigail nodded in understanding and gave the invitation back to Freddie. Nicholas looked a bit lost but wasn't curious enough to ask. 

“Does that mean we won't see you again?" Was what Abigail finally settled for, looking back to Freddie. The redhead gave her a sad smile and shook her head. 

“No, you won't. I will be paying close attention to both of you, however, so smile at the camera for me.” Abigail smiles at that, as the sentiment was very sweet. 

They finished their meal. Nicholas said farewell to Freddie and followed Hannibal to one of the empty rooms on the floor. Abigail got a hug, and a small encouragement whispered to her ear: 

“I'll see you in a few weeks.” After that, she left. 

Will walked with her to her room, where he instructed her to sit on the floor. 

“What are we doing?” Abigail asked. 

Will took a small box out of his jacket and gave it to her. She opened it to check its contents and was excited to notice she actually knew what it was. A deck of cards. 

She knew those were a popular game in the Capitol and in the districts closer to it. While they could possibly be found elsewhere, and Abigail was sure there must be one or two of this around in the district, she had never seen one up close. 

“I thought you were more of a chess person," commented Abigail. While also rare, there were more of those back in the district, and Will and Hannibal had a more elegant chessboard brought from the Capitol. 

She had never seen a deck of cards in their house, though. 

“Chess is a game that depends on strategy and your ability to predict your opponent's next move, that's why the matches can extend for days. I thought you would appreciate something simpler and more depending on luck right now," explained Will, sitting on the floor in front of her. 

“Okay, and how do we... play this?” She gave the cards back to Will, who started to clumsily shuffle them. 

“You can play dozens of games with cards, but today we're playing one popular in District Four that Mag thought me a few years ago, it's called _go fish_.” 

The game was simple enough that, after one match of trial, the game was very tight between both. Will was right, it was mostly luck of what you and the other person were dealt with. 

Perfect not thinking for a little while. 

Abigail kept score of their games at the beginning, but eventually gave up and just enjoyed each match. 

Eventually, they heard the knock on the door that marked the arrival of Hannibal and Nicholas. Hannibal sat on the bed and Nicholas on the sofa. He looks at Abigail like he wants to tell her something, maybe about the fact that she's playing cards like they're not with one foot in the slaughterhouse already. 

Then he shook his head, probably remembering who's he with. 

“So, some last advice?” Asked Nicholas, probably wanting to go sulk alone in his room, knowing it was his last chance to let himself feel his feelings. 

“From the moment you put a foot on the stage for the interviews, till one of you die, you are friends, I don’t care you’ve been on each other’s nerves for the last few days,” said Will while shuffling the cards again. He looked up at Nicholas. “I can’t know for sure what the interview will be like, but you may have questions with the intention of setting you against Abigail, don’t fall for the provocations, you’re only going to make a fool out of yourself.” 

Hannibal gave Will an amused smile and it was enough to make Abigail sure something similar had happened with Will’s district partner. 

“It’s also important to remember that you will kill people, at least if you don’t get killed first. Get used to the idea, as hesitation in the arena is as good as a death sentence,” was Hannibal’s input. 

Abigail wondered if she would hesitate. Even when she had helped her father with the girls, she didn’t kill any of them. She helped lure them, she helped prepare the bodies, but the killing… 

She wondered what it would feel like. 

“So, be friends, kill the other tributes, and survive?” She resumed with a neutral voice while she took the deck of cards out of Will’s hands and started to deal them. 

“And survive,” echoed Hannibal. 

A moment of solidarity silence was shared by the four of them before Nicholas retired to his room. 

Abigail resumed the game with Will, Hannibal watching them play with an almost warm look in his eyes. Not quite, as Abigail wasn’t sure Hannibal had any emotion that didn’t betray a potential for violence and hurt, but even that danger was a familiar and comforting presence for her. 

“How did you feel the first time you killed someone?” She knew they both had killed before their games, but she supposed it didn’t matter so much. 

She first looked at Hannibal, who looked delighted at her question, she wondered if he had been waiting to see if she would ask. 

“I didn’t feel much about the killing per se, but the situation as a whole gave me a feeling of control I had lost after Mischa’s death.” 

It felt right for Hannibal. Abigail didn’t though Hannibal would feel much about taking a life; she also knew that probably wouldn’t be her case. 

She looked at Will, who looked way too concentrated looking at his cards. She didn’t push, knowing he would answer at his own time. 

“First, I felt terrified” he started. He took a deep breath and looked up to meet her eyes. “And then I felt powerful.” 

She considered his words, then nodded. They kept playing a few rounds, conversation playing easily between the three of them. It felt normal, like one of many nights Abigail had stayed at their house in the last year. 

They ordered dinner and stayed up till almost midnight when Will determined they should let her sleep. 

The easy day had let her relax enough that sleep came easier than the previous days. 

When she woke up the next morning, she was already surrounded by her prep team, who would have complete control over her the whole day. The only consolation was that Alana would join them in a few hours. 

The team worked on her until evening, leaving her with her skin with what she thought was supposed to be a natural glow, even if she’d never seen someone glow like that. 

“Ready to see your clothes, Abigail?” Asked her Alana, clearly excited. 

Abigail answered with an equally excited smile. 

She first had a plaid skirt, with a reddish-brown as the base color and some warm, but not very bright oranges. It made her think of autumn back home, when all the trees lost the leaves and the fields were full of them. A shirt of a very pale-yellow color, and a jacket of the same reddish-brown from her skirt. Brown, long leather boots with little heel, and an orange ribbon for her hair, which had been previously combed in a low ponytail fastened by two front strands of her own hair. 

She loved it. The warm colors and bright details made it look juvenile but still looked mature enough to be taken seriously. She almost asked why wasn’t she in a more dramatic costume, when the answer became obvious. 

“This was made with Hannibal and Will’s usual clothes in mind, right? Not quite a uniform, but I look like a girl dressing up like her parents.” 

Alana smiled, noticing her honest appreciation for the concept. 

“I also had them dress up with a similar color scheme, just with colder tones, so it won’t go unnoticed by anyone,” complemented Alana. Hannibal had told her Alana was a bit skeptical in the beginning about the idea, but she had obviously warmed up at the idea. 

They dressed her up and, as expected, the clothes fit her perfectly. It was very comfortable, and the boots made her legs look longer. 

They gave her the final touches of make-up, consisting of more blush on her cheeks and a soft pink lipstick. 

When they finally finished, it was time to go. 

She reunited with Nicholas, who had an elegant black suit average for male tributes, and Alana and Mr. Clark took them to the elevator, where Will and Hannibal were already waiting for them. 

Hannibal had a plaid suit with warm browns similar to her skirt, and Will had a sweater of a cold-brown with the match of trousers and jacket a few shades darker. She wondered if she could have Alana take them a photo of the three together after the interview, they looked like a team in perfect synch. 

They went down to the studio where the interviews took place. Alana and Mr. Clark when to the first platform, where the stylists had their sits, and Hannibal and Will were directed to the third one, where mentors sat. 

Abigail and Nicholas were guided by an Avox to the backstage, where some tributes were already waiting. The girl’s dresses were spectacular. She wondered what were they thinking of her more sober outfit. 

They would understand later, or their mentors and stylist would explain it to them. Now that the interviews were soon to start, the programming would be talking about all the present victors and what were they wearing, commenting maybe about promising new stylists or the new fashion trends in the Capitol. Not a dull moment could exist. 

The tributes kept arriving until all twenty-four of them were awkwardly sitting in the same room. Abigail let her eyes wander, and in her mind, she was making her prediction of which of them would be dead this time tomorrow. 

When the clock struck seven, the television in the room turned on, and they could see now the beginning of the show. The presenter Mr. Flickerman started greeting the audience, and Abigail just could think that he looked terrifying with his choice of color for his hair and makeup, which was a scarlet red. 

“He looks like he’s bleeding,” commented the girl from District Four. Abigail and a few others nodded in agreement, while the rest looked too anxious to comment. 

One of the assistants working there came for them and guided them through the stage so the cameras could get a good look at them, and then left them in the first row, where they would watch the interviews.

Each district tributes were taken aside one by one when their turn came, so they could get on the stage as Mr. Flickerman introduced them, starting with District One.

The career districts had good-looking, confident tributes that everyone loved. Most of them had gotten a nine or eight in training, except for the boy of One, who had a ten. The girl who had made the comment about the scarlet color looking like blood was called Ardelia Mapp, but that was the only name Abigail retained. It would be easier to not know them by name. 

Districts Five to Eight passed without anyone particularly eye-catching. In District Nine was the other girl, apart from herself, that had gotten a ten in training. Clarice Starling, Abigail knew her name without having to wait to hear it. She had looked very impressive in the training days, and Abigail immediately knew she would get far. 

How far, only time would tell. 

When her time came, Abigail felt a curious emptiness. Until a few minutes ago, she had been nervous, but now it was as if the character she had been playing, the confident girl very sure of herself, took over. 

She looked at the public, and she felt with certainty that they already loved her. 

“She accepted the hand Mr. Flickerman extended as a greeting and sat on the sofa, careful to move with absolute grace and sit as Freddie or Alana would do; as a perfect lady. 

“Abigail, a pleasure to finally meet you. I imagine you know you and your family have been quite the topic of conversation this last few days,” he was giving her the choice to play coy with the ‘family’ title or to take it as a fact. 

She chose the latter. 

“Yes, I figured that one out, I’m sure you can imagine how delighted is Will at being the center of attention”, she joked, to create a feeling of comradery with the public, making them feel like part of an inside joke. 

She could hear the delighted laughs, and in the monitors, at the sides of the stage, she could see the cameras took a quick look at Will, who on cue hide his face on Hannibal’s shoulder, which made everyone laugh even more. 

“Yes, I can see that. How not to be excited, though, the three of you have made quite the family tradition of sitting here.” 

“Well, Will refused to make the family tradition to cook together, and I can’t imagine Hannibal would be interested in taking care of the herding dogs with Will and me, so I had to adapt.” Mr. Flickerman laughed with the audience this time, clearly delighted at having someone speaking so lightly of the situation. 

Even the careers usually gave the feeling like the games are just a small inconvenience to overcome, not as a family activity. 

Abigail could hear Mr. Flickerman thinking about what to ask next, she then took the initiative and arranged her hair a little, making sure that the bracelet got on in the presenter's line of sight. It worked just fine. 

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think we’ve seen that bracelet before in here.” 

Abigail looked at it as if she had just remembered it was there. She let a shier smile grow in her face, and took the playful tone out of her voice, making sure to appear more vulnerable, no one had to know she was in perfect control. 

“Yeah, it’s Will’s bracelet. It was both his and Hannibal’s token in their games. He gave it to me so in the arena I remembered that I have a family that trusts me to come back to them.” She didn’t risk a glance at the public, knowing it could take away from the authenticity, but she could imagine the sad look in their eyes. 

Her family was not a few unknown faces in a faraway district, but two of their beloved victors that they had known for years. It was as human as a tribute could get for them. 

“Well, with that score I can see why they would trust you. Do you feel ready for the arena?” 

“As ready as I can be, I promised myself I will make my fathers proud, and that’s what I’ll do.” 

She did look at the public this time, pretending to look Will and Hannibal wither eyes even though she knew it was too dark to see them. The public look moved, as she had intended. She purposely left the ‘fathers’ bomb to the end, so it caused a more solid impression. 

The monitors focused on them once again, this time both were smiling with a paternal pride she knew was genuine. After all, she had just played the entire audience, just as they had taught her. 

“I’m sure they’ll be proud. The time has ended, so please everyone gave a big applause to Abigail Hobbs, from District Ten!” Instructed Mr. Flickerman, when the cameras turned back to them. Everyone cheered on cue, and the applause followed her as she left the stage. 

Nicholas was waiting to be introduced, so as they crossed paths, he gave her a conspirative glance, to which she responded with a playful wink. He rolled his eyes but seemed quite good-natured. Abigail guessed that he had some feeling of superiority to the audience, as he knew first handed that Abigail had just played all of them. He knew something none of them did. 

Abigail was guided back to her seat, where she watched the rest of the interviews. Nicholas had managed to keep up a laid-back attitude with a playful side. Mr. Flickerman didn’t make any questions that could lead him to actually screw up their alliance, which she was glad for. 

The interviews from Eleven and Twelve were quite unremarkable, and soon they were allowed to go back to their apartment. 

Nicholas went to change back to pajamas while they waited for their team to come back, but Abigail kept on her clothes, still wanting a photo with Will and Hannibal. 

She sat in the living room when first Alana arrived. She was smiling brightly and didn’t waste a moment to explain to Abigail how perfect she acted. Mr. Clark came second, and took the sit farther from the sofas, as he always did. He did give her a small congrats and told Nicholas he did good went he came back to the living room, which Abigail already counted as a very exciting attitude on the stylist’s part. 

“Alana, can you take a picture of Hannibal, Will, and me when they come back? I really like the ‘power team’ vibe you made.” Alana agreed, enamored with how appreciative Abigail was acting. 

Alana order dinner to be brought to the living room so they could watch while watching the re-transmission. 

“Until a few years ago, they only showed the highlights of the interviews, but after Johanna won with no one knowing of her beforehand, as she didn’t have more than the mandatory highlight, they decided to re-transmit everything,” Alana explained to Abigail and Nicholas. It sounded logical, as Abigail was sure all previous winners had at least a few highlights. 

That reminded her of what Freddie had told them the previous day. 

“Alana, is it true that you were in Will’s fan club on his games?” Abigail had to contain the laughter that threatened to come out with the worlds. 

After Alana’s face turned red, she burst out laughing anyway, same as Nicholas, who clearly had remembered the gossip with Freddie. 

Alana was saved from having to answer by Will and Hannibal’s arrival. They looked very pleased and Abigail could imagine they had taken so long because they had been stopped by journalists to get them to comment on the interviews. Specifically, in her interview. 

“You guys arrive just in time for dinner,” announces Alana, moving from her place next to Abigail to sit next to Nicholas on the other sofa, living the spaced free for Hannibal and Will. 

They sat each at Abigail’s side and turned on the television. 

The interviews started again, and everyone commented on the tribute's strategy with the audience, Hannibal adding his input for rumors he had heard with other victors, and Alana commenting about the clothing. 

The commentators that were talking over the interviews make sure to pass a few pictures of Hannibal and Will’s suits before playing her interview, commenting on how they were one of the most handsome families they had ever seen. 

“Anyone knows how they ended up adopting her, anyway?” asked one of them. 

“Rumor has it her father was executed for multiple murders, one of those being her mother.” 

“That is a quite specific rumor, don’t you think?” 

“I have a good source.” 

Abigail tensed a little, the jab of pain she always had when thinking of her mother making her sober from part of the excitement of the day. She knew everyone would find out eventually, and she didn’t mind much about them knowing about her father, but she wished her mother's memory could remind untouched. 

Everyone in the room made a notice not to comment. 

They played her interview, and everyone seemed to forget about any rumor. They adored her sense of humor and almost childish innocence. Everyone was almost moved to tears when she talked about coming back to her family. 

“She looks quite like a family girl, but the audience should not forget she got an impressive ten in training.” 

“It’s clearly in her blood,” comments another one. If they meant Will and Hannibal, or Garret Jacob Hobbs, she couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t care much either. 

Hannibal and Will turned to her and their proud faces said everything. She had played her role perfectly, and everyone was charmed with her. She saw a light from the corner of her eye and saw Alana had taken out her camera and taken a picture. 

“You looked like the perfect happy family,” she gave as an explanation when Hannibal looked inquisitively at her. 

He accepted the answer and they went back to watching the interviews. Nicholas was liked enough, even if it was a bit lost in the furor of Abigail’s interview. If he resented her for that, he hid it well enough. 

When the show finished and they finished their dinner, Alana and Mr. Clark retired, telling Abigail and Nicholas they would come in the morning to take them to the arena. 

“Good luck, Nicholas, I’m sure you’ll get far if you play carefully,” said Hannibal to break the tense silence that formed once the stylists left. Abigail realized she had never heard Hannibal call Nicholas by his first name, but seeing Nicholas react at it, immediately relaxing, she assumed it was intentional. 

“Remember that only careers and tributes with a death wish go to the bloodbath,” added Will with good humor. Nicholas almost laughed, probably remembering the conversation they had had about it. 

It was four days ago. Abigail felt like it had been a lifetime ago. 

“I’ll remember,” he promised. “Goodnight, then. See you tomorrow, Abigail.” 

“See you tomorrow,” she answered. 

He left to his room, and Abigail was left with a choice. She could enjoy the moment a little longer, maybe get a last reassurance from mentors, but she had a feeling they would be disappointed at that. What was most important, she would be disappointed with herself. 

The time for reassurance and advice was over. This was the time to prove herself. 

She stood up and turned to see the men. 

“I’ll retire to sleep, I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?” 

Hannibal clearly liked her choice. Will looked mildly terrified but proud of her for being her own strength. 

“Goodnight, Abigail,” answered Hannibal. 

“Make us proud by being the next victor,” added Will, making reference to her interview. She laughed as intended, and went back to her room. 

She closed the door behind her. 

She wondered how much of herself she was living behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very sorry for the delay, again, but not only is university killing me, but these chapters keep getting longer? Like, the first ones were 3.5k and we’re 6.3k in this one, it’s kinda crazy.
> 
> And sorry if the "fo fish" pun is too corny, I just couldn’t help it XD It’s as close as I could get with letting Will teach her how to fish, considering in this AU he wouldn't know XD
> 
> We’re finally getting to the Games! Next chapter is Hannibal’s first day in the actual Games!
> 
> Thank you for dealing with my kinda slow updates, and thank you for each comment that I keep very close to my heart. See you... I won’t even keep promising next week, but I’ll try.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update at least every Saturday, but if I can write in advance more chapters I may do it more often.  
> Feel free to go scream at me on my tumblr @espejonight28738.
> 
> The title comes from Bring Me The Horizon’s latest album Post Human: Survival Horror


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